December, Underground
by Enchantable
Summary: Memories erased, Orihime is struggling. Attacked after receiving a strange gift, she finds herself in a world unlike any she can remember. Amidst shifting and manipulating powers, she finds herself inexplicably drawn to the enigmatic Ulquiorra Cifer.
1. Prelude 1221

**Okay so welcome to the new story!**

**Now I've done a similar thing in a few other stories with memory erasing taking place--which is always fun. but for this story I wanted to take it to a completely new level with EVERYONE getting their memories kind of erased.**

**The title for this comes from the album I'll be working off of. I'm going to do something like with 'Silent Force' but this time it will be with AFI's Decemberunderground. I love the album and I'll be working off of it. I might also use some stuff from Tea Party's "transmission" or a few other songs, but that's going to be the main one. **

**Now this isn't going to be a "Silent Force" rip off. They're going to be different stories. But as much as I love the mechanics of Silent Force with the 1 album/1 story, lets just say I see my writing back then I think its a bit *ahem* different. So I'm going to try the same premise with a different story and my evolved writing style.**

**So enjoy!  
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With a crack, the board shattered.

Completing the rotation, Orihime Inoue firmly planted her feet on the ground, her eyes looking at the man standing across from her on holding the two halves of the board. He smiled and straitened up, holding them by his sides. He straitened up, offering her the barest of smiles. Orihime did not move, remaining in her fighting stance, her hands ready to block whatever came her way. After a moment, she realized the man was waiting for her to move. Shaking herself she forced herself to move, to get back into a relaxed stance, pressing her hands to her sides. She bowed to the man, a gesture he returned. The few students gathered nodded their approval before turning and walking away.

"Very good," he said, "you have improved greatly. Where is it that you said you had trained before?"

"Oh, well, I picked things up," Orihime said with a smile, "here and there," she trailed off.

"I see," he said, "continue to improve as you have. You are a credit to your instructors, whoever they may be."

"Thank you sir," she said formally, bowing once more before she turned and left the main room for the locker rooms.

Grabbing her cloths, Orihime quickly walked into the bathroom with the bundle tucked safely under her arm. She undid her uniform and changed into her normal cloths, as fast as her adrenaline fueled movements would let her. Orihime didn't like small spaces, not in the least. It took her two tries before she managed to get the buttons on her jeans to cloths, another three for her to get her socks on properly. Grabbing her hair back into a ponytail, Orihime did up her hair with the elastic looped around her wrist. Grabbing her uniform, Orihime turned to the door of the bathroom.

The lock seemed a million miles away.

It was a small thing, simple and silver, but somehow in that moment it seemed a hundred times more complex than anything she had seen before. Orihime clutched the uniform to her chest as she looked at the lock. In an instant the world was reduced to the pounding of her heart, to the struggle it had become to inhale steadily. Everything else, everything else was little more than foolishness. Nothing else could possibly matter. Orihime felt like she was drowning. In the space of the small cubicle she was drowning. Gasping she took a step back, trying to find space where there was none but all that happened was the back of her knees hit the toilet. Automatically her knees buckled as she sat down hard on the toilet, barely even realizing that the lid was closed.

Bending over, Orihime put her head between her knees, forcing herself to breath. She focused on that, trying to zone out everything but her breathing. She kept her eyes open though. She couldn't bring herself to close her eyes. Darkness would do the exact opposite of helping her in her current state. Exhaling, she waited a moment before she sucked in air once more, trying to stop herself from panicking further. Slowly, only when she felt she was ready, Orihime raised herself up and stood up. The bathroom door was just that once more, a bathroom door. And the lock was once more just a simple piece of plastic. Everything was as it should be. Taking a final deep breath, Orihime smiled faintly and reached out towards the lock. Her fingers touched the cold metal and turned the lock easily. Pushing open the door, Orihime looked at the bathroom. A few women stood at the sink and she could hear more just past the bend where they stood changing. Holding her uniform a bit looser, Orihime took a step forward.

And plunged into oblivion.

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"And then what happens?"

Orihime sighed and looked over at the therapist sitting in the chair nearby. She surveyed Orihime from behind a pair of wire rimed spectacles, her face somehow both open and closed off at the exact same time. Orihime turned her gaze back to the ceiling, shifting against the couch cushions in a failed attempt to get comfortable. Unsurprisingly it did not work. The therapist waited patiently. She did not click her pen or tap her foot or even uncross to recross her legs. Until their allotted time was up, the therapist would show no sign of impatience or dislike or any emotion really. And just as the therapist's face was two things, Orihime found she both liked and disliked the alloted span of time and the therapist who she dealt with during it.

"I wake up," Orihime replied, "I fall and I wake up."

"I see," the therapist replied, "and this falling is common?"

"I guess," Orihime said, "but in the dreams with the white castle, I'm going upwards rather than falling. But either way, I always wake up before I see any of their faces."

"But your sure there are other people? People you know?"

"Yes," Orihime said, "I know them but I don't know how I know them. i never see their faces," she let out a breath, "I look for them though. I stopped a man on the street the other day. From the back I thought I knew him."

"And did you?"

"No," she said, "well I knew him, but I didn't feel anything when I saw him."

"How did you know him?" she asked.

"We went to High School together," Orihime said, "but I don't think I said one thing to him during it," she shook her head, "his name is Uryuu Ishida."

"And you never interacted with this Ishida?"

"No," Orihime said shaking her head once more, "nothing past 'hi'."

"You said you've said you didn't have many friends in High School," the therapist began.

"No-one has friends in High School," Orihime said, "not real friends anyway," the therapist nodded as though that made perfect sense, "I just--I want these dreams to stop," she pushed herself up on her forearms, "can't you give me something?"

"Orihime," the therapist looked at her patiently but Orihime knew what her answer would be.

Letting herself fall back on the synthetic leather of the couch, Orihime looked back up at the ceiling and tried to count the swirls in the plaster. She was not going to get sleeping pills and without sleeping pills she was going to get no relief for the strange dreams that continued to torment her. It was pointless and if she was not ordered to be sitting there, Orihime knew that she wouldn't be. But she was and thus there she was, sitting there _talking_ about feelings that didn't really need to be talked about. The rest of the therapy session was quick and relatively painless. The therapist seemed to know Orihime wasn't going to go deeper into her feelings anymore than the therapist was going to get out her pad and write the young woman a prescription.

It was a pretty day out, much nicer than it had been in the office of the therapist.

Orihime walked home from the therapists office, though it took her the better part of an hour. She opened her apartment door with the two deceptively simple locks on the outside of her door. On the other side, however, it was a completely different matter. Locks practically lined the door from top to bottom. Chains and deadbolts and even a keypad all gave the illusion of security. Her windows all locked in two different places. Orihime felt comforted by these things, comforted and yet at the same time she seemed to instinctively _know_ that there was something out there that would be stronger than any locks she could put on the door. Still, with all the metal they had to, at the very least, slow whatever came for her down.

Maybe then she could run.

Reaching up at her throat, Orihime pulled off her scarf and put it on the chair nearby. Her jacket followed but her shoes remained on. Walking into the kitchen, Orihime opened her refrigerator and rooted around until she found the bottle of water she was looking for. Lifting it to her lips she closed her eyes and let it fill her mouth, trickling down her throat. Drinking greedily, she lowered it only when the bottle was almost empty. Leaning back against the refrigerator, she let the water dangle by her side as she took a deep breath. Opening her eyes she looked up at the smooth ceiling above her head. No swirls, no crazy, just endless smoothness. Lowering her head, she let her eyes move across the clean and simple lines of her apartment.

A sound stopped her.

Honestly she would not have heard it if she hadn't been so content in the quiet. But she did hear it, the sound of metal being hit--being _rung_. Orihime's eyes widened at the chime. Sense's instantly on alert, Orihime slowly moved forward, placing the bottle of water on the countertop next to her. Her hand slid across it until she found the handle of one of the cooking knives in the block nearby. She didn't dare look, didn't dare let her eyes stop their sweep of the space she could see. Silently she pulled it forward, wincing at the soft sound it made as the steel pulled free of the wood. Slowly she moved forward, taking care to place her feet as softly as she could. Rounding the corner of the kitchen, she pressed her back to the wood and stopped, settling herself as best she could before she leaned out an looked around the corner.

There wasn't anything there.

Stepping out full, Orihime still kept the knife close to her as she walked hallway was a dead end and, because of habit, all her doors were locked. There wasn't anywhere that a person could have gone. Walking down the hallway she kept her eyes out for anything. Brow furrowed, she looked around trying to figure out what could have made that noise. Something throwing off the light caught her eye. Frowning, Orihime walked forward a bit more quickly, stopping at the discovery. It was situated just so--perfectly so that if the light hit it correctly as it had been, she would have missed it completely.

Spinning, suspended on a thread so fine it seemed invisible, was a silver bracelet.

Orihime reached out, her hand stopping midway as she snatched it back before she reached out once more and caught the silver object that twisted high above her head. It took one touch for the thread to snap and the bracelet to land squarely in her palm. The silver of the metal was tarnished and dirty, the chain that would have connected the two halves was broken. Fingers curling around the object, Orihime turned around, her eyes casting about for who--or whatever had put the object in her way. But there was not a thing or person in the apartment except for her. All the doors were still locked, all the bolts still bolted. No-one could have made it into the space she was in. But still the hairs on the back of her neck did not settle. Something was off, something was _wrong_.

Turning to the first room, Orihime reached around her neck for the key she'd always kept there, the one key that could undo every lock. Pulling the chain over her head, she slid the lock into the key and turned it, opening the door. There was no-one there. Retreating from that room she turned to the next one. Opening the door to that room, she once again was greeted with nothing but empty space. But who would have strung the bracelet up there? They couldn't have come in while she was out, not without tripping one of her alarms. A final sweep of the bathroom still presented nothing. Orihime sighed and set the knife on the sink edge. Raising her eye she looked at the woman who stared back at her.

Orihime Inoue did not like what she saw.

Taking a deep breath she leaned forward and blew out, using her breath to fog up the mirror and her reflection. When she was certain her reflection was lost to the puff of her breath, Orihime stepped back. Something caught her eye though. In the corner of her breath, there was a smudge, as if someone had pressed their finger to the mirror. It disappeared, her breath only having revealed a fraction of it. Heart pounding, Orihime leaned forward and exhaled, blowing until the steam from her breath revealed the rest of the message. As soon as it did Orihime wished with everything in her that it hadn't. Written in an almost formal and certainly elegant hand was a single, short message. Short enough to only be one word, one terrifying word.

_Run_

Taking a step back, Orihime's back collided with the tile of the wall, jerking her into action. She ran out of the bathroom, turning towards the main part of her apartment and the door. But her feet wouldn't move towards that. There was nothing there but all the same Orihime knew that she couldn't get out that way. Something moved, brushing against her shoulder. Orihime gasped and twisted away, pressing herself against the wall. She couldn't _see_ anything but somehow she knew that there was something there. Oh why hadn't she checked the bathroom first? Now she had no-where to go. The same strange thing brushed against her other arm, only this time Orihime could have sworn she felt fingers. Reacting on instinct she ran forward. Another invisible hand reached out to grab her but she shoved it aside, racing as fast as she could towards the only clear thing she could see: the far wall of the hall.

It dead ended, her rational mind and her eyes knew that, but the flight instinct had taken over and this was the only place she could run. So she did, she ran as fast as she could towards the only space she could see. She didn't realize as she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist. As she ran towards it, she didn't slow or stop, if anything she gained speed. Every brush she felt of invisible hands or sleeves she dodged or pushed against, but none seemed to catch her. If the two second run to the end of her hall was the only fight she was going to get then fight she was going to. As the wall came up, Orihime spun around, intent on doing something--on doing _anything_ to save herself. She knew when her back should have hit the wall, when her fight should have been over. She knew it.

But it didn't happen like that.

One moment she was ready to hit the wall, to press her back against it in a failed attempt at fighting.

The next she was falling.

She had a glimpse of her apparently deserted hallway, filled with invisible monsters before her view swung to her ceiling as the wall she had planned on flattening herself against simply was not there. Her ceiling was but her eyes found it shared her view with the impossible blackness of another place. Her feet tripped and on pure instinct her arms swung out to find something to grab onto. For a second they brushed against the invisible hand but Orihime forced herself to keep going as she careened backwards, the knife flying out and skidding across her floor. Whatever ground lay behind her--if any did--it was not level with her. All that lay behind her was emptiness. But instead of simply falling, the surprise, confusion and shock seemed too much. She did not remain conscious long enough to discover if there was a floor somewhere underneath her--or if there was a floor at all.

And, just as she had in her dreams, Orihime Inoue fell into oblivion.

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**Confused?  
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**You probably should be.**

**But don't worry, it'll be cleared up! In an interesting and dark/twisty way. And YES before you ask there are going to be multiple pairings in it, but I'll tell you right now I'm going to be giving the Shinigami/Arrancar more love. So get ready! **

**As always, please review! Especially in the beginning it helps me kind of feel out how long the story should be and, well, if there should be a story at all. So lemme know what you think! If you don't wanna review you can PM. Oh, but just a note, if you're going to im me (which people have been doing a lot of recently) I am one of those people who leaves AIM running even when I'm not there. So just keep that in mind.**

**But as always, I prefer reviews!**

**So please review!**


	2. Kill Caustic

Something was digging into her back.

That was the first thing Orihime Inoue became aware of, something digging into her back. Slowly she opened her eyes, though upon doing so she found it made little difference in her ability to see. The endless blackness that stretched above her did little to comfort her. The only light in the place she was was a sickly color and seemed to be everywhere. She couldn't define a source for it. Tentatively Orihime looked past her booted toes but the only thing she could see was more tunnel. No wall, certainly no hallway from which she had fallen. Craning her neck backwards, she discovered that even in the other direction, the only thing she could see was the tunnel. Orihime remembered falling but, for the life of her, she couldn't remember how far and the endless blackness above her head certainly offered no answers.

Slowly Orihime rolled over to her side and pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her head gave a nasty throb, stopping her from moving further. Reaching up she pressed her hand to her temple. She must have hit her head when she fell from---from wherever she had fallen from. Closing her eyes she opened them once more but the scene that greeted her did not change. Something slid down her wrist, stopping at her forearm. Orihime looked down the length of her wrist at the bracelet that she now wore. Sighing she looked at the silver thing. Of course she had thrown away a knife she could actually use and kept a bracelet. Shaking her head, Orihime lowered her hand to her lap and looked closer at what she had been laying on. Immediately she regretted that choice.

It was a human femur.

Stumbling to her feet Orihime staggered back to the wall. Out of the corner of her eye she saw more flashes of white in the dark substance. Stopping herself she reversed her direction until she stood in the middle of the strange place. It was _littered_ with bones. Bile rose in her throat as she twisted around, turning back towards the way she had came, desperately wishing a way out would appear. But none did. She was alone in the tunnel. But it was not simply that she was stuck in the tunnel littered with bones that had sent her into such a state. No, it was so much worse than that. The tunnels were not strange to Orihime, not by a longshot. She had been in them before, of that she was certain.

The small problem was that she came to this place in nightmares.

Of the three re-occuring nightmares she had, one was in this tunnel--or an identical one. The strange light, the endless identical view in every direction. It was all exactly the same. Part of her became engulfed in panic, the rational part that recognized the tunnel from her nightmares and told her that an endless tunnel littered with human bones was the very _last_ place she wanted to be. But the other part of her--alibet a very _small_ other part, told her that despite what the larger part of her said there wasn't anything to be afraid of. Taking a deep breath, Orihime forced herself to listen to the smaller of the parts. There wasn't anything to be afraid of, people fell into bone strewn tunnels after being chased by invisible people all the time. Well, either that or she was going to wake up in a cold sweat in about ten minutes when she plunged through the floor--something that did not seem too bad at the moment.

"Is anyone there?!" Orihime cried turning around, "hello?!" she shouted into the darkness, "can anyone hear me?!"

But no-one answered her shout. Spinning back around towards the other end of the tunnel, Orihime looked ahead. She still saw nothing except, well, more tunnel. Her eyes wanted to look down but she forced herself to look ahead. In her dreams she was running and in her dreams she always fell into the darkness as the ground stopped existing. But Orihime knew that if she looked down and saw more bones she was going to _really_ be in trouble. Besides, as frightening as falling would be, it would also mean that this was a dream and a dream meant she would be waking up. Keeping that thought firmly in mind and taking a deep breath she put her foot ahead, taking one step. The next step was a little easier. Before she really knew it Orihime was walking down the bone strewn tunnel. She would have stayed in that corner forever but she knew that whatever had cast her into this place would be coming. She had to move if she wanted to survive. So she did the only thing she could, she walked forward.

"Is anyone out there?" she called, softening her tone. But once again, no-one said anything in reply, "anyone?" she called once more, her tone tentative.

She stopped after a moment, turning to look back they way she came, for a brief second filled with the hope that she wouldn't have to keep walking into the unknown. But there was nothing there. Nothing except the lingering promise of what had been there before, the invisible hands, that _thing_ that wanted her. She didn't know how she had run from them. All she knew as that the moment she'd slipped on the bracelet it had been as if the playing field had been leveled. She still didn't know what they looked like but they hadn't seemed to be able to catch her either. Sighing, Orihime ran a hand through her hair. Perhaps she should just have gone back the other way. At least then she would know that she was going in the right direction--somewhat in the right direction. Just when she placed one foot that way, she heard something. Stopping dead, Orihime strained her ears to hear what the people were saying as they came out of the darkness.

"I don't see anything," one said.

"This place gives me the creeps," the other said.

"Would you shut up? This place is creepy for everyone."

"I know that! Lets just find her and get out of here."

They stepped out of the darkness, dressed unlike anyone Orihime had ever seen. Lengths of black fabric hung from them and her panic fogged mind recognized their pants as hakama. But they did not look like martial artists, certainly one that she had seen. And, judging from the swords at their waists, hand to hand combat wasn't going to be what they were looking for. Orihime looked around, desperate for a place to hide. Though she could see them now, she knew that they were the people who had been in her apartment. She took a step backwards but her foot caught on something, probably another bone and before she could recover her balance she fell hard on the ground.

"What was that?" the first one demanded, drawing his sword instantly, his eyes landing right on her, "did you hear something?"

Orihime gaped at him. Was he serious? He was looking right at her, but, somehow, he couldn't _see_ her. She sat their stunned as they glanced around before moving forward. one came dangerously close to her foot but Orihime pulled her legs up, trying to make herself as small as possible. if they somehow couldn't see her she wasn't going to give them a reason to look. They stopped when they were level with her, clearly having dismissed _her_ as anything. It was coincidence but even so, Orihime found herself breathing even more shallowly as she prayed for them to just move on. Slowly, as carefully as she could, she eased herself onto her feet before she straitened up. Looking down, she took a step backwards, keeping her feet as soft as she could.

"Hold on--" one said his hand going for his sword once more.

"Hey! Fuck Face!"

Both of the strange men turned at the shouted insult. Orihime did as well, her eyes widening at the sight of the man who somehow made both of them look strange. Dressed in tattered white hakama and a white open jacket with sleeves that barely reached his elbow, the man was covered in bandages. They snaked across his chest and down his arms, leaving little skin exposed. The skin that she could see was scarred. His head was capped in a mop of unruly bright blue hair, his eyes lined in green. But what truly made her stop was the massive jawbone that fixed the man's face in a maniacal grin. Involuntarily, Orihime took another step backwards as everything in her told her to run. The only problem was that she knew what lay behind her was nothing she wanted to be running towards.

"Grimmjow you bastard," one man growled.

"Tell us what you've done with Orihime Inoue," the other demanded. Orihime's eyes widened as she looked at the man, wondering how he could possibly know her name.

"What I've--" the blue haired man, the one they called Grimmjow trailed off. His eyes locked with hers and Orihime felt her eyes widened as she raised a hand defensively. His eyes moved down the length of her arm and Orihime forced her own to follow his line of sight. Both their eyes locked on the tarnished silver bracelet and Grimmjow laughed, "you Shinigami really are fucking stupid," he said.

"Shut up you Arrancar," snarled one, "tell us what you've done to her."

"I didn't do shit," he growled.

"Like we'd believe that. Tell us where she is!"

"Ha!" Grimmjow let out an angry bark of laughter before his eyes locked on Orihime's once more, "took you fucking long enough."

Orihime sucked in her breath. The other two clearly couldn't see her but this blue haired man could. How in the world that was possible, she had no idea. But there was clearly a difference between him and the black robed men. Perhaps the same difference was true of the others who had attacked her. The black robed men traded looks, clearly sensing that Grimmow wasn't talking to them at all. They turned slowly and looked behind them, trying to follow his line of sight. One of their hands reached out slowly and before she could step fully out of the way, their fingertips brushed against her arm. Instantly his hand grabbed her wrist.

"She's here!" he shouted.

"Huh--how do you--"

"I've got her!" he continued to shout, "she must be wearing that bracelet--we can't see her but I've got he--"

Orihime's eyes widened before she twisted her hand, grabbing his wrist. Yanking him forward she tripped him with her foot, twisting to take his weight onto her shoulder and using his momentum to flip him over her shoulder. The second man went for his sword but Orihime brought her foot up and around, slamming the top of her foot into his throat before bringing it in and extending it quickly, kicking him squarely in the chest with the heel of her boot. He went backwards too. Orihime didn't wait to see the effectiveness of her attacks, she turned towards Grimmjow. He was watching her with a strange look on his face, as if he was slightly impressed and more than a little confused at what she had just done.

As if what she had just done was unusual.

"Who are you?" Orihime questioned looking at him.

Grimmjow let out the same wicked sort of laughter that he had given to the two men. Orihime walked forward as quickly as she could towards the blue haired man but, it seemed, for every step she took towards him he took another back. Frustration surged through Orihime as she moved forward towards him but he simply continued to match her pace, his grin not slipping as if he was enjoying seeing her upset.

"Damn did they do a number on you," he said, not missing a beat as he moved backwards.

"Do a number on me--_who_ did a number on me?" she demanded but he only laughed, seemingly amused by the anger she knew was naked on her face, "_who_?!" she repeated.

Grimmjow only grinned before he took another step back. She saw his hand move and felt her eyes widen a moment before another rip--identical to the one she had fallen through, appeared behind him. Through it she could see what looked like a desert, painted almost ghostly white by the moon that hung heavy in the sky. A moon that seemed _off_, though Orihime couldn't figure out why. Her eyes went to Grimmjow who stood on the precipice, that maniacal grin still on his face. There was nothing nice about that smile. Orihime knew that any sort of amusement in it was at her expense. He stepped backwards, placing one foot in the empty air behind him.

"Don't!" Orihime cried, "tell me what you're talking about!"

"Gotta follow me to find out," he said.

"Follow you--follow you where? Out there?" he shrugged, "I'm not going out into the desert in the middle of the night!" she cried.

"Well then you can stay here," he said, "your choice."

Without turning around he stepped out of the rip and dropped out of sight.

Orihime gasped, looking at the tear in the darkness. Behind her she heard a groan, a low sound that made it clear that the men she had knocked out where waking up. But the blue haired--whatever he was, he _knew_ that something had happened to her. He seemed to know far more about it than she did. She could no more trust him than she could continue to live as she was. There was really only one choice in front of her. Biting her lip, Orihime turned back towards the tear. Her eyes widened when she saw the edges of the reality begin to blur together. The rip was closing. Behind her lay some kind of safety, safety and a ground of people who seemed to know her name and want her for something. In front of her lay a desert, a strange and alien world. Two options lay in front of her, neither of which seemed particularly appealing.

Orihime chose the desert.

Running forward she jumped through the closing portal, barely making it through as the last blocks of darkness took over whatever strange world it separated. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as the ground rushed up to meet her. Instinctively she tucked and rolled as she tumbled into the sand. Landing on her stomach, Orihime raised her head and wished that she could feel surprise at the sight of the endless desert that greeted her. Jumping to her feet she turned around, her eyes looking for any sign of blue hair or scarred skin. But she saw nothing. Nothing but the alien landscape that stretched out in all directions, as far as she could see.

"Grimmjow?" Orihime called, but got no response.

Sighing, she looked down to see sand covering most of her. Brushing her hands down her skirt, she gave an effort to clean the sand off her. Thankfully not much had gotten in her boots and a simple emptying was all it took to make sure there was none in them anymore. Placing her hands on her hips, Orihime tried to figure out her situation. Raising her eyes to the sky, she looked at the endless darkness. Maybe it was just the dead of night but Orihime looked at the sky and thought that it seemed as if the sun never shined in this place. Lowering her eyes she looked over at the nearest thing she saw, a tree. Smiling at her foolishness, she turned to the tree. Though barren, surely if there was a tree, there was sun. Living things needed the sun. Walking over to the tree, her feet slowed as her eyes took in the odd sparkle to the thing.

By the time she reached it, Orihime realized the tree was not a tree at all. Or perhaps it was for wherever she was, but unlike any tree she had seen this one was not made of bark but made of crystal. Reaching out, she touched the edge of the tree. It was hard and cold, the crystal shining in the moonlight. Running a finger across the surface, Orihime found only smoothness, as if the crystal had been polished before becoming a tree. Or perhaps it had been carved, though if that was the case the hand that had done it was the most masterful she had ever seen. Orihime let her vision rise to the moon. It took her mind a moment to realize what she was seeing. It was the moon alright, but it was not like the moon she knew.

It was _backwards_.

Her hand dropped to her side as she stared at the backwards moon. In her dreams, the dreams with the white palace, the moon was backwards as well. Her eyes widened as one hand flew up to frantically cover her mouth. Suddenly she felt naked standing in the desert. The black robed men hadn't been able to see her with the bracelet around her wrist but Grimmjow had. Were there other men running around here with skeletal attachments who could see her as easily as he had? Though he hadn't said anything to make her think he was going to harm her, he had left her standing in the middle of the desert without any idea of which way she should go. But even that hadn't made her think he was going to harm her. Oh she had no doubt she would get hurt, but she somehow thought he wasn't going to do anything to hurt her intentionally.

"You are far more trouble than you're worth," Orihime said glaring at the silver bracelet on her wrist.

The thing was broken to boot. A broken and tarnished bracelet had caused far too much trouble. She should have just left her apartment and never touched the thing. But if she hadn't then she wouldn't have found the message and whoever those black robed people were, they would have caught her for sure. But for the life of her she couldn't understand what they would want with her. Why would black robed people, the likes of which she had never seen before, be hunting _her_? It made no sense to her. But Grimmjow seemed to know something. he had said that they had done something to her and, try as she might, she couldn't see why he would want to lie to her. It was terribly confusing. With nowhere to go, Orihime sat down at the base of the spindly crystal tree and looked up at the backwards moon and felt terribly confused, not to mention a bit like crying.

Closing her hand over the bracelet, Orihime slid it from her wrist. It came off easily, she barely even hand to move her thumb to get it there. Even if the chain had been there, she had a feeling it would have come off easily. Holding it between two fingers, she held it up so that she could just see the moon past it. She turned the bracelet so that it too was on its side, its curve mirroring that of the moon. Slowly she turned it on its other side, its curve opposing the moon. But the backwards moon stayed just that, backwards. Lowering her hand, Orihime closed her fingers over the bracelet. The place was strange, to be sure, but though her mind told her to be terrified, her heart told her not to be afraid.

Slowly she got to her feet, holding onto the tree to bring her there. Reaching behind her she brushed off her skirt before she turned to face the away from the tree. Away from the tree was where she had come from. But for the life of her Orihime didn't know if that was the way she should be going. She needed directions, she needed someone to tell her where to go. With no other options she could see, Orihime brushed her skirt off once more for good measure, stuffed her troublesome bracelet into the pocket of her dress, picked a direction and began to walk. It was cool but not terribly so, still Orihime found herself wishing that she had brought a jacket with her. Still she continued to make her way across the desert, trying not to dwell on the situation at hand. She had watched Grimmjow fall through the portal, there had to be other people in this place--somewhere.

"Are you lost?"

Orihime spun around, shocked beyond belief. Standing behind her as if she had always been there--though Orihime was certain she hadn't been a moment before, was a woman. The strange woman surveyed Orihime with unabashed curiosity and, though she tried to be discreet, Orihime couldn't help but do the same. About the same height as her, the woman was a collision of green and pink. Despite being in the desert, Orihime couldn't find a speck of sand on the woman, not that there was much really to get sand on. A strip of fabric was tied about her waist, though it barely reached mid-thigh. Another covered her breasts, though only barely. Orihime felt her cheeks burn at the woman's obvious lack of clothing. But what caught her eye was the woman's head. The same odd sort of skeletal fragments were on her, only they seemed to form a cap. Horns swirled out, making her look almost like she had another set of ears on her head and the empty eye sockets seemed to stare off into nothing.

"N-no," Orihime stammered out, thrown off by the woman's child like tone, "I'm not lost."

"You look lost," she said.

"No, really," Orihime said, "I'm not lost."

"Yes you are."

Orihime's eyes widened as the green haired woman mimicked the expression, adding her own bright grin. It was the strangest thing. Talking to her was like speaking to a deranged child trapped in the body of an adult. Orihime's smile had vanished but the woman seemed to see no reason to stop grinning. It was extremely off putting, though once again Orihime found herself having a hard time finding true fear when she looked at the woman. Seemingly delighted by the fact Orihime was still standing there, the woman clamped her hands on Orihime's shoulders. Orihime felt her eyes widen but before she could react, the woman grabbed her hand and twirled her like some kind of adult ballerina. She was deceptively strong and Orihime's only real choice was to spin, spin or risk hurting her arm and she had a feeling that she was going to need that.

"What are you doing?!" she cried, trying to get her to stop.

"Finding you your way," the woman said letting Orihime go. She spun around before finally lurching to a halt, "now all you have to do is follow your feet."

Orihime found herself so turned around it was impossible to know which way her feet had pointed her in the first place. Her arms flailed as she tried to recover her balance. She stepped forward, more to be steady than anything else and the green haired woman clapped happily.

"See!" she chorused, "follow your feet! They remember the way!"

"I find that difficult to b-believe!" Orihime gasped as she stumbled forward, barely managing to keep on her feet. Turning around she faced the green haired woman, "I'm looking for someone," she said, "do you know him? His name is Grimmjow, he, um, has blue hair--"

"No," the green haired woman sniffed turning her head up high as if she had smelled something foul.

"No you don't know him?" Orihime asked.

"No," she said shaking her head, "Nel Tu does not waste time with stinky meanies."

Orihime smiled at that. It really was like dealing with a child. Careful not to get close enough for Nel to grab her, Orihime took a step forward.

"I know that Grimmjow is a stinky meanie," she said choosing Nel's words, "but he did bring me here and, well, I don't much like this place. Could you tell me where to find him so that I can go home?"

"Hmm," Nel said before looking at her, "no."

"No?!" Orihime cried in dismay, "oh but Nel--" she shook her head and then, just as a child would, she sat down right in the sand and crossed her arms, continuing to hold her head almost comically high, "I can give you something--" Orihime looked up and down herself for anything of value but the only thing she could find was the tarnished silver bracelet, "here," she said.

Nel twisted round to see the bracelet. Her eyes widened as she grabbed the bracelet from Orihime's fingers. She turned it round in her fingers, muttering things that Orihime couldn't understand. Orihime watched carefully as the woman bent over the bracelet, continuing to turn it over in her fingers. Suddenly she stopped, her head flying up as she looked up at Orihime.

"No, no, no," she scrambled to her feet, "this is supposed to go to Orihime!" she turned the thing over frantically in her fingers, "tie the thread, set the trap, Orihime has to come."

"_I'm_ Orihime!" Orihime cried, "and what do you mean 'trap'? Why are you trying to trap me?! Who are you people? Where is this place?"

Nel's face peered up and suddenly it was only inches from Orihime's own. Orihime found herself staring into the stark emptiness of Nel's eyes. It was as if the child part of her was taking up a child sized portion of an adult body. And the rest, the rest was simply nothingness. One moment their eyes were locked, their noses inches apart.

And then Nel was gone.

There was a dull echo in Orihime's ears, a reverberation, but the girl was quite gone. Orihime barely had time to grab the bracelet to prevent it from falling into the sand. Pressing her hands to her chest, she turned around, trying to see where Nel had gone but there was nothing to give her any sort of indication. Was that how Grimmjow had disappeared? This place was just so confusing. What was even more confusing was how, in spite of all the terrifying things that were happening, Orihime didn't feel terribly afraid. Confused, to be sure, and more than a little worried but genuine fear, that was probably the only emotion she did not feel as she stood in the endless desert with a mysterious bracelet hugged to her chest. Now she was once again left with pieces and quite lost.

There really was only one thing to do.

Taking a deep breath, Orihime closed her eyes and spun around in a circle, stopping only when she was facing a completely different direction. Or, if she thought about it, it could very well have been a direction that she had already gone in. But Nel seemed to know her way. She also seemed quite crazy. Orihime was beginning to think that those two things went hand in hand in a place with a backwards moon. Opening her eyes she was unsurprised to find herself facing a direction that looked exactly the same as, well, every other direction. But this was the direction she was going to go in. Taking a breath and squaring her shoulders, Orihime slipped the bracelet on her wrist and looked down at her feet. Shrugging she placed one foot in front of the other and began to walk off in her chosen direction. She thought it was a terrible idea, still, but every good idea seemed to get her nowhere. So this was the only other option. With that thought firmly in mind Orihime Inoue set off across the desert in search of--of something. What, exactly, that was, she had no idea.

"This is a terrible idea," she muttered.

The desert gave her no reply.

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**So, yeah. There you go! See the faster your review the fast I update! Its a total win-win.**

**Hueco Mundo's gotten a bit weirder in Orihime's absence. So why isn't she remembering? More importantly, why is Grimmjow keeping his mouth shut? And why is Nel acting even crazier than usual? Well you're going to find out soon.**

**Maybe Ulqui can explain it when he comes in sometime in the next two chapters.**

**And before anyone goes yelling, YES Orihime's acting a bit more vocal. She's supposed to be a warped version of herself. Her memories are gone which means she's got no idea who Ichigo (or Ulquiorra) is, so she doesn't have that crutch to lean on. I wanted to show a slightly warped version of the world, especially hers. And, you know, the rest of the bleach-verse. **

**So remember, please review!**


	3. Babylon lTea Partyl

**Okay! So for everyone whose asking, I guess there is something of an Alice-in-Wonderland feel to this but its funny because I totally didn't mean to do that! But its funny because I always saw something of that story with the Arrancar arc. SO I guess in a way there are some more obvious Alice in Wonderland themes in this. Which is especially funny because I actually just finished a fic off of Syfy's Alice in Wonderland miniseries. **

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Orihime didn't know how long she walked for.

It had to be a while but it was very hard to tell. The landscape didn't alter, the sky didn't lighten. Nothing changed. She tried to count her footsteps but every time that she tried, she lost count. Now all she knew was that her feet hurt--along with her head and every other inch of her _and_ she was cold. It felt like she couldn't take another step. Without any clear sort of shelter nearby, Orihime had no choice but to sit down on the sand. Letting out a soft sound of disappointment, she leaned back until her back hit the grains underneath. She only looked at the sky for a moment before, in spite of the danger she was in, she closed her eyes and fell fast asleep, too tired to really care.

She dreamed.

This time she was on a surface of some kind, a surface that looked as though it belonged to the White Palace she sometimes visited in her dreams. But she was kneeling next to someone, a figure she could only make out the black fabric covered leg of. Black fabric--black _hakama_, just like those people who had come after her were wearing. Though she knew she should look up at the person, she couldn't move. And when she did move, it was as if something else was moving her. Like she was on some preordained track. One of her hands came to clutch at her chest as she felt herself bend her head, her eyes locking on the ground in front of her.

Just out of her viewpoint she could see a knee, clothed in white. But the rest of the figure was lost to her range of vision. Though a part of her knew there wasn't anything to be afraid of, that did little to stop the raw fear that pounded through her. She was terrified and the worst part of it was she could not figure out why. Was the man in the black hakama trying to kidnap her? Was the man in white trying to rescue her? Why was she so scared? At the very farthest reached of her vision she could see the night sky and the glow of the moon, but the actual moon itself was too far away. The smell on the white expanse was terrible, part sulfur, part burned flesh, part something she couldn't put a finger on.

A third figure jointed them.

Black taloned feet were the first thing that came into her view, their wicket tips denting the ground. Her eyes moved very slowly up the form. Black fur decorated his legs and just past them she could see a black object whipping back and forth. It took her mind a moment to realize she was looking at a _tail_. But it was impossible for someone to have a tail. But as her eyes trailed up she saw that in addition to a tail, the mysterious figure in front of her also had a pair of wings. Her eyes reached his mid-chest before they stopped, locking on what could only be a hole in the center of it. Though Orihime felt her own confusion increase tenfold, the fear she felt from the dream seemed to actually _lessen_ at whoever the nightmarish figure was. As if by his presence alone, she knew everything would somehow be alright.

An odd sort of rushing filled her ears, drowning out any words that were exchanged between the three figures. Suddenly the world began to rock back and forth, as though she was on a boat. Orihime tried to grab onto something but her arm's wouldn't move, as if whoever she was in the dream was perfectly alright with the world being rocked back and forth. The rocking became more violent, snapping her back and forth, though her body did not leave the ground. None of the other figures seemed the least bit put off either, the black leg next to her remained stationary, the tail continued to swish and the white clothed figure struggled to get to their feet. Suddenly the entire world lurched violently and Orihime felt herself leave the ground.

"Wake up!"

With a gasp her eyes snapped open.

"Nel!" she breathed, looking at the green haired woman who'd shaken her awake.

"You were having a nightmare," Nel said, "Nel woke you up."

"I--oh--thank you," Orihime said pressing a hand to her forehead as Nel dropped her hand's back to her sides, "I must have fallen asleep."

"You seemed too sad to be asleep," Nel said.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid I don't like my dreams very much," Orihime said. Nel cocked her head to the side, "you aren't going to run off again, are you?" she asked after a moment. Nel just smiled, "if you are, would you please tell me which way Grimmjow went?" Orihime asked, "I'd very much like to talk to him and I--"

"Grimmjow's a stinky meany," Nel said with all the adamance of a petulant child.

"Yes I'm quite sure of that," Orihime said, "but he seems to know something about what happened to me and I need to speak to him so if you could just tell me--"

"Okay," Nel said, "but you've got to catch me."

"Oh no, Nel--"

But the green haired woman was already on her feet. Desperately Orihime scrambled to her own. She didn't know what she'd do if she was lost in the desert alone again. Nel clapped her hands together in delight, knowing that Orihime was going to follow her. This time though, instead of disappearing, Nel took off across the desert. Orihime had no choice but to run after the woman. It was hard. Even without disappearing, Nel was extremely fast. Matters were not helped by Orihime's sore feet or the fact her head still ached from just having woken up. But she forced her sluggish limbs to obey her, running after Nel. Nel easily maintained her lead but Orihime just managed to keep her within her view. Nel didn't miss a beat as she ran up the slope of one dune.

And then disappeared off the other side.

"Follow your feet!" Nel cried over her shoulder.

"Nel wait!" Orihime shouted to the girl.

"Follow your feat!" Nel repeated, "they remember the way!"

"Wait!" Orihime cried as she ran faster, "Nel!" she cried as crested the top of the dune, "Wai--"

Her feet tangled together and with a shriek she found herself rolling down a particularly steep dune. Orihime barely managed to cover her head as she tumbled down the sand. Finally rolling to a stop at the bottom of the hill, Orihime shoved herself up and stepped forward to follow Nel. She stopped when she realized she seemed to be in some kind of crater. The walls around her sloped upwards sharply, forming some kind of basin around the structure in front of her. It seemed to be made of an assortment of odd objects. Blocks of marble, the strange trees and rocks she had seen, even what seemed to be a patch of fabric sewn together made all made the strange house she found herself standing in front of. Though clearly patchwork, the structure was rather large and seemed strangely sturdy as well. Though Orihime had yet to witness a sandstorm, she was certain that there had to be some. After all, she was in a desert.

"Nel?" Orihime called, "are you there?" she frowned when she received no answer, "oh dear," she sighed, brushing a hand across her skirt.

She had no desire to go through the structure. She had met more than her share of strange people since she'd been in the desert, she didn't want to go into the strange house. Whoever lived there had to be quite crazy, to be living in a patchwork house in the middle of the desert. But she had no choice. She just couldn't go back up those dunes and get lost once again. Maybe whoever was in the house would take pity on her and decide to help her. And even if they did not want to take pity on her, perhaps they could be persuaded. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, Orihime turned and faced the house.

Orihime stepped out of the desert and into the house.

It was like walking into a museum, though it was a very dark and macabre one.

Books bound in leather vied for space with chairs covered in tattered upholstery. A deconstructed couch was pushed against one of the makeshift walls but it was covered in what seemed to be dinnerware. Orihime looked down, picking her way across the cluttered floor. Small statues to some long dead God spilled over the seat of what looked like a throne. There were slabs of marble, meticulously arranged in some order she could not discern. Other things were there too. She shied away from the pile of bones, their appearance similar to the ones she had seen on Grimmjow and Nel and she averted her eyes from the pile of swords that lay just past that. She could see everything from half-assembled musical instruments to a perfect glass box that lay empty nearby. Orihime found her feet pausing as she looked at the glass box.

"Hello?" Orihime called tentatively, taking a step forward.

Resistance met her foot. Frowning Orihime looked down, her eyes widening at the sight of the odd creature scurrying around her foot. Small and white, it had many legs as they wiggled around. Though she couldn't be sure of it she thought its head move towards her foot. Her breath caught in her throat as she clapped a hand over her mouth, moving her foot back in a failed attempt to discourage it. But it only seemed to encourage the creature. She stepped back fully, quickly looking behind her to make sure that she wasn't about to trip over anything behind her. She didn't want to trip over anything and she certainly didn't wan to break anything. She heard a sound deep in the darkness past where the light could reach. There was someone in the darkness.

"Hello?" she called.

"I have no interest in you or your wares," a cool voice came from somewhere in the darkness of the room, "take them elsewhere."

"I really would like to do that," Orihime said taking a step forward, nudging the thing on her foot out of the way, "but, um, Nel pointed me here. She said I'd be able to find Grimmjow Jeagerjaquez--" Orihime stopped when she realized that no-one was replying, "hello? Are you there?"

Orihime stepped further into the dark museum. Her eyes roamed over more of the tattered treasures. Whoever this man was, it seemed like he had salvaged everything in the room from some kind of disaster. She could see a few of the marble slabs were broken and a few of the chairs had a missing leg or torn upholstery. It was unsettling to be standing in the museum of broken treasures, searching for a man in the darkness. As she ventured further into the darkness, her eyes were occupied on finding a path through the clutter. So occupied in fact, that it was not until she picked her way around what looked like a Buddhist Shrine that she discovered the source of the cool voice.

His back was turned towards her, bent over something she couldn't see. He was dressed as Grimmjow had been, though his clothing was in a slightly better state than the blue haired man's. His hair was coal black and fell almost to his shoulders, contrasting sharply with the white of his clothing. His bone fragment was on his head, a broken helmet that covered half his skull. He was intent on his work and, it seemed, had not heard her come towards him. Orihime hesitated, feeling oddly as though she was interrupting something. Seeming to become aware of another presence in the room, his fingers paused in their task. Though his head remained focused on the object, his eyes slid over to hers.

Orihime's breath caught in her throat. Even Grimmjow's scars and bandages couldn't compare to the man in front of her. His entire skin was white, white and from the look of how the light played on it, dull and hard. It did not look like skin. He wore the same white clothing as the others but his was in a decidedly better state, his jacket covering his entire chest and zipped high on his throat. But it was his eyes that stopped her. Bright and haunting, the emerald shade seemed to stop her in her tracks. Colbat slid down his cheeks in two narrow lines, as if he was constantly crying. But there was no emotion in his eyes, no emotion on the hardened skin of his face. Orihime couldn't look away from the features, nor from the piercing emerald eyes that locked on hers.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" Orihime gasped, suddenly feeling foolish, "I didn't mean to intrude. Its just, I was following this woman--Nel--across the desert. She'd promised to take me to Grimmjow and I'm afraid instead she's led me right to you," she rambled on, "I'm sorry for interrupting you--if you could just tell me where he's gone I'd be happy to leave you alone."

For a moment she was certain he was going to tell her to get the hell out without giving her any kind of help. But much to her surprise he lowered whatever the object he was working on, setting it on the table in front of him. His hands were the same bone white as the rest of him, his movements spoke only of grace. He stood up with the same kind of grace she had seen him work with and faced her. Orihime swallowed thickly as she raised her head to follow the movement. He wasn't drastically taller than her, but their height difference was significant enough for her to have raised her chin slightly to continue to look him in the eye. His emerald eyes never left hers as he looked at her, not when he had set down the object, not when he got to his feet.

Orihime knew she should have been afraid of him. Nel's insanity was one thing, Grimmjow vocal anger was another, but the stoic coolness of the man in front of her was by far the most unsettling thing. Unsettling, yes, but Orihime couldn't bring herself to be afraid of him. It was like her dream He had not spoken a single word to her past his earlier dismissal and in spite of everything Orihime felt incredibly self conscious at the sound of her own voice. It seemed somehow _wrong_ to speak so loudly and easily standing in front of him, as if the silence in the room was somehow a living thing she was disrupting. It was incredibly unsettling to be standing in the silent, broken museum in the presence of its silent, broken guardian. But Orihime pushed the thoughts aside and looked him squarely in the eye.

"Do you know where Grimmjow is? Or Nel?" she repeated. He continued to look at her before he turned around and walked into the darkness, "wait!" Orihime took a step forward as his own feet stopped in response, "I'm sorry I interrupted you," she said quickly, "its just, well, I'm very lost and if you could just give me directions I'd be happy to leave."

Orihime watched as one of his hands curled upwards, rolling into a fist. His posture was ramrod strait but Orihime imagined that if it hadn't been it would quickly have become so. He seemed to be almost, well, almost pained at the sound of her voice. As if it had been a very long time since he'd heard another person's voice. As if the sound of another person's voice _hurt_ him. Orihime bit her lip, feeling irrationally bad. She didn't know why it seemed to hurt him to hear someone else speaking, all she knew was that she didn't like causing people pain. Biting her lip she quickly moved her hands behind her back, her own fingers balling as she waited for him to do _something_. But he just stood there, one hand loose by his side and the other curled into a fist.

"I-I'm sorry," Orihime said finally, "I'll go look for them on my own," she added quickly turning around.

"Wait."

The word was said with the same cool monotone his earlier words had been spoken with. Orihime turned around quickly. He still stood with his back to her but now his hands were lost in the shadows. Orihime looked at him closely, trying to figure out what he was going to do. But for the moment he seemed content to stand there, half lost to the shadows. Orihime waited in silence, trying to figure out if she should speak more or if it was better to just keep quiet. After what seemed like an impossibly long time, he turned around and faced her. His hands now were tucked loosely into his pockets, his emerald eyes looking at her stoically. Orihime shifted slightly under the piercing gaze, trying not to feel too much like she was laid naked to his eyes. Finally he looked down before looking back at her once more.

"How did you get here?" he asked finally.

"Oh, with this," she said shoving a hand into her pocket and pulling out the bracelet.

He extended his hand to her. Orihime felt her fingers tighten around the bracelet, irrationally not wanting to give the troublesome thing to her. He made no motion of urgency, his fingers did not even twitch. Slowly Orihime lowered the bracelet, placing it in his palm. Instantly his fingers withdrew, bringing the object back to him. Holding the bracelet in two of his fingers he turned it slowly, his gaze locked on the object.

"Someone put it in my apartment," she said quickly, "they, ah, had on some kind of thread."

"How did you get to Hueco Mundo?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers through the silver loop of the bracelet.

"I--ah--" Orihime trailed off as she looked into his eyes, "I fell," she said finally, her voice soft. She tore her eyes away from his, "I fell, first I fell through my wall. Then I fell through a tunnel. Then I fell down a dune," she pressed her heels together, "I'm just glad my boots aren't too full of sand."

His eyes went to her feet as thought to confirm what she was saying. Orihime followed his gaze down to the scuffed toes of her boots. They weren't the nicest thing to look at, the leather was worn and broken in. But she wore them almost every day. There was something comforting about looking down and seeing the black leather on her feet. When she looked up once more his eyes were back on the bracelet. Silently he held out his hand. Orihime quickly held out her own as his fingers released the bracelet, dropping the silver object into her palm. Orihime clasped the bracelet to her chest as he looked at her, watching her every move with so much apathy that Orihime would have bet anything he was hiding interest.

"Come," he said finally walking a completely different path through the objects towards the exit.

"Come?" Orihime repeated, "what do you mean come?" she demanded, her voice loud.

"Come with me," he repeated, his voice cool, "woman."

Orihime's eyes widened, one of her feet involuntarily stepping back.

Those words, there was _something _about what he had just said. Not checking to see if she had reacted to the words, his back was already to her. part of Orihime told her to step back, to run. But something far deeper told her that running would only bring about terrible things. She _had_ to follow him. There was no choice, just the illusion of one. She felt as though she was in a dream as her foot moved forward. Like she was back in that dream world where her body moved along some preordained path. Her foot moved forward and before she could make sense of it, her other foot followed it until she had crossed the distance to stand behind him. He must have used the strange thing Nel and Grimmjow had because one moment he was there, the next he was gone, only to return another moment later. This he held a cloth wrapped object in his hand, which he slid into the belt of his hakama.

"W-where are we going?" Orihime asked, her voice soft even to her own ears.

"To the person who brought you here," he said finally, stepping out of the structure.

"You know who brought me here?" Orihime questioned, feeling only slightly less hazy.

"Yes," he answered and Orihime was beginning to think that this man was not someone to make conversation with.

"But what about your house?" Orihime asked looking around at the place behind her.

He gave no reply. Orihime turned around to see him walking towards one of the dunes. Orihime sucked in her breath and hurried after him, half afraid he was going to disappear like the other two had. But he did not. She stopped when she was just behind him. Slowly he withdrew a hand from his pocket and reached out, pushing the appendage into the sand. Orihime watched as he forced his hand in until almost entire forearm up to his elbow was buried in the stuff. For a moment nothing seemed to happen. Then she felt it in the soles of her shoes, reverberating up her legs. The slope of the dune seemed to tremble as suddenly before it opened completely, a gaping black hole in the sand.

He looked at her, plainly waiting for her to do something. But Orihime did nothing. She didn't even move. Her eyes locked with his green orbs, neither of them moving. The sand continued to shift around them, the ground trembling under her shoes as she tore her eyes away from the man's and looked at the gaping black hole in the sand. She looked back at the man who held it aloft. Revealed by the darkness she could see his hand was pressed to the side of the sand, holding it open.

"Go," he said.

"No," she replied. He looked at her, his face giving away nothing, "I'm not just walking into some gaping cavern in the sand with you!" she elaborated placing her hands on her hips.

"Very well," he said, "you may remain behind when the sand fills this place."

"The sand will _what_?!" she demanded, "but isn't that your house?!"

"No," he replied.

Orihime opened her mouth angrily but the ground lurched underneath her feet. She barely managed to keep her balance as the sand began to circle towards the house in earnest. She realized then that that was why the place was build like it was. If this man really could control the sand then perhaps he was simply burying whatever he called where he lived to protect it. In a few minutes the entire place was going to become full of sand anyway. She doubted anyone who didn't know what lay underneath it would think to look for anything of value. Looking at the sand and then at the man standing in front of the tunnel, Orihime made a desperate bargain.

"What's your name?" she demanded. He looked at her, face still unreadable, "I'm not going in there until I know your name!" she said as the sand moved quicker, the sound quickly becoming deafening.

Apparently though, whoever this man was, he wasn't perfect with whatever sand control he wielded. Orihime looked down to see her boot toes were already lost, the sand quickly coming almost to her calves. Orihime gasped, trying to drag her foot up but there was just too much sand. Panic engulfed her as she realized there wasn't any getting out of it. It was like those terrible dreams, when her body was running on some other person's rules. When _she_ could do nothing and the worst part was that she knew it. Still she tried to lift her foot, to try and fight the sand that was threatening to drag her down completely.

A strong hand suddenly locked around her upper arm, yanking her forward.

Orihime shrieked as she found herself clear off the ground. Before she could make sense of what was happening the world was plunged into pitch blackness and she found the front of her body pressed up against something hard, warm and smooth. Orihime squeezed her eyes shut before prying them open, only to find it made very little difference with the darkness. The hand that had grabbed her upper arm remained there, the grip strong but not painful. Orihime tried to turn her head to see where she was but it was impossible in the darkness. She thought she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye but she couldn't be sure.

Suddenly the tunnel was illuminated with a green light.

Blinking in the sudden change, Orihime realized that the thing she was pressed against was not the wall of the tunnel but rather the white clothed chest of the man who had just rescued her. Her eyes moved to his other hand which was engulfed in a pale green light. Slowly her eyes dragged up his arm to his face. He was looking at the tunnel entrance which was now lost to the sand but his hand was still grasping her upper arm. Orihime swallowed thickly before she pulled her arm away from his grip. He seemed to come to himself then, his hand easily opening to allow her to remove herself from him. His eyes went to hers and, much to her dismay, she saw his features were unreadable.

"Come," he said turning to walk down the tunnel.

"No," he stopped, "no way," Orihime repeated crossing her arms, "I've been in too many freaky tunnels in the past few hours. Not to mention an endless desert where there _never_ seems to be anything but moonlight--which, by the way, comes from a moon that's backwards. So no, I'm not going to just go walking into another tunnel with a stranger."

If he was affected by her words he certainly didn't show it. Orihime felt her temper rise at that. She did not like being ignored or caste aside and that was _exactly_ what her new green eyed companion was doing. Slowly he turned around, his eyes locking once more with hers. Though he did not scan her face for emotion, though he did not appear to actually take her in, she knew somehow that he had done all of those things. Swallowing thickly, Orihime met his gaze squarely, defiantly even as she waited for him to say something. She was not going to back down, certainly not for the quietness of a man who seemed to think that she should just fall in line and follow him.

"Ulquiorra Cipher," he said finally.

"Alright then, thank you," Orihime said gathering herself and walking forward, "so, are we going to be here for a while?"

He did not reply.

* * *

**Now we've deviated a little bit from "Decemberunderground" with this chapter. I warned you that there was going to be some songs from The Tea party's "Transmission" album. This one is called "Babylon" and its a great song that I suggest you all get your hands on. **

**And Ulqui's here! Now for those who want to know what's going on in his head, you're just gonna have to wait a little bit. We'll get to that but for right now this is strictly from Orihime's sadly confused POV. But when we do get to hear from him its gonna be AWESOME. Remember, he knows everything--including what landed Orihime in her current memory-less situation. So, anyway, I'm glad everyone's enjoying the story.**

**Which is why you should (please) review!**


	4. Miss Murder

**Okay so admist all your comments on "its like Wonderland but I love that!" I got an interesting one asking about this story taking its place among the epic other ones I've written and the answer is:**

**YES.**

**That's right people, this isn't going to be a shorter story like Step and Shuffle were, no, this is gonna be like Arcana, Ostara, Verona and Terebellum. We're talking lots of chapters, lots of epic-ness. **

**Now this isn't to knock Step and Shuffle, I like those shorter stories. They're a lot of fun to write but they're quick and easy to do. This, however, is not going to be like that. We've got a GREAT epic villain (just you wait), romance and angst and all that good stuff. Everyone's struggling with what's going on and Hueco Mundo's seriously divided. **

**But you know in most of my stories Orihime's something of a wallflower, because that is what she is, but for this I wanted her to be a serious ass kicker. And I've figured that most of her wall-flower-ness stems from always having people around her who baby her. Well now she doesn't have that. I'm glad you guys are liking the character and its not too OOC for her. Remember when she'd got to stand on her own two feet in the Manga and Anime, she proves she's not too bad at it. **

**Anyway, onto the story!**

* * *

As they made their way down the dark tunnel, illuminated by the strange green light, Orihime couldn't help but study her new companion.

He seemed different from the two she had encountered. Though loud and angry and probably crazy, Grimmjow seemed to know how to keep a secret while Nel seemed far too crazy to know what she was saying at all. But this man, he seemed both in control of himself and not inclined to shout. Two things that Orihime found she was immensely grateful to find. It was also very interesting to see how he was dressed. The others wore tatters of clothing, stained with the remnants of the desert and whatever trials they had there was nothing to say say that this man had not undergone the same thing, his clothing was more than intact. In fact, it was in tact enough that there was no excessive skin showing. He had said nothing past what was necessary. In fact, if Orihime had to bet, she would say that he did not _like_ to talk. Not at all.

"So," Orihime said, "do you know Nel and Grimmjow?"

He said nothing.

His posture remained perfectly upright, his lips perfectly silent. Orihime looked down at her toes before she forced her gaze upwards. Now he was just being rude. Taking a deep breath, Orihime marched forward and put on speed until she walked next to him. But she kept walking until she was ahead of him. Turning around, she stopped dead in her tracks. He stopped right in front of her, just before their toes would have touched. His emerald eyes were only highlighted by the bright green light that lit their way. He still was perfectly unreadable but Orihime was not about to continue this journey with a man who seemed to think that ignoring her was the right way to interact with another person.

"I'm not going to follow you into the dark and listen to myself talk for the next hour--or however long it takes us to get out of this place," she said determinably.

"Then be silent," he said, his voice cool as he stepped forward, obviously meaning to walk past her. But Orihime stepped in front of him, blocking his way, unwilling to take his answer, "woman," he began.

"Woman?" Orihime repeated, her voice heavy with disbelief "_Woman?!_" she repeated, her voice rising angrily. Orihime put her hands squarely on her hips, "did you just call me by my gender?!" she demanded, "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

"My apologies," he replied stiffly, still unaffected by her demand.

Orihime waited for him to continue but he did not. Nor did he even seem to be affected by her shouting. But he had just called her woman. Her. Orihime Inoue couldn't believe her ears. Worse, he didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with that. As if he went around calling people by their gender all the time. Orihime couldn't imagine a woman responding well to being called 'woman', as if that was the only thing she was. Besides, she had told him her name--Orihime stopped, realizing that she couldn't remember if she'd told it to him or not. But surely she must have. Why would he be leading her down this place if she hadn't at the very least told him her name? Thinking back on their brief conversation though, the only thing that Orihime could remember was that he had called her 'woman' back at his strange dwelling.

"You do know my name," she said.

"Ah," he said, a brief sound of confirmation. She raised an eyebrow expectantly, "Orihime Inoue," he said finally.

He did know her name.

Though Orihime knew she hadn't told it to him. She was far too surprised to speak, much less to continued to block his way as he stepped past her and continued down the tunnel. How did he know her name? Maybe she had told it to him and just forgotten about it? Orihime frowned as she thought back, running over their conversation. But for the life of her she could not remember telling him her name. His feet slowed before they stopped entirely as he seemed to realize that she was not walking behind him. Slowly he turned around, looking at her fully. Orihime looked back at him, knowing that whatever he was feeling would not be known to her. Still, she could not help but feel once more as if she was completely laid bare to his gaze. As if he could see past everything she was, down to her very soul.

It was a very unsettling situation, to be laid so bare while he remained a complete mystery to her. Orihime couldn't look away from him, but she did wonder if maybe it wouldn't be better if she just turned around and found a way out of there. It was a ludicrous idea, but no more ludicrous than following the man who knew her name without her telling him. He said nothing, made no movement to urge her forward. If his hand was tired from illuminating their way, he did not show it on his face. He just stood there. As if he had no life outside the darkness, as if he had no place to go in the world except to lead her. As if he had no purpose but to be beside _her_.

The warmth that thought spread through her was confusing to Orihime. She had just met the man and yet the fact he was willing to accompany her made her feel, well, good. Orihime had never been good with trusting people, certainly not people she had just met. And yet with this man, with Ulquiorra, the trust she felt was too obvious to be denied. He waited there for her and the thoughts of turning around and going the other way slowly ebbed as she stepped forward, putting one foot towards him. Then another. He did not turn away from her as she came to stand in front of him, his emerald eyes watching her every move. If Orihime didn't know better she'd say he was assuring himself that she was behind him. That she was still there.

"We need to keep moving," he said, his voice that same cool monotone that he always used.

She nodded, feeling embarrassed about what happened. The thought didn't cross her mind that she had no reason to be embarrassed. She hadn't done anything truly wrong. It was more than in her right to be hesitant about following a strange man into a stranger place, walking through the darkness illuminated only by the light that came from his hand itself. He turned around as Orihime shook herself. Taking the final step forward, Orihime grabbed his shoulder. His entire body stiffened further at the touch before he turned around fully, breaking the grip she had on his shoulder. Orihime looked at him, trying to figure out how she was supposed to ask the million questions she had.

"How do you know my name?" she questioned, realizing that others had known it to, "how does _everyone_ know my name?" she demanded, her voice sharper. He kept his eyes on her but Orihime had no doubt he had answers, "why are you helping me?!"

For the first time she saw emotion on his face.

It was there in the tight press of his black lips, in the way the hand that did not hold the light shifted in his pocket. There wasn't a smack in the face obviousness to his emotions but they were there. He was frustrated and angry and, if Orihime had to guess, a bit sad. But he didn't seem to now how to deal with the emotions that he felt, as if he had never felt such things before. They only existed on his face for a moment, barely even long enough for her to see them. And then they were gone, his features unreadable once more as he pushed whatever he was feeling to the back of his mind. Instead of answering her, he turned around and stepped forward into the darkness. Orihime stared at him as he walked away, feeling like she had crossed some invisible line.

"We must keep moving," he said, "it is not safe to occupy this place for long."

"Not safe?!" Orihime gasped, disbelief and anger overriding her lingering embarrassment, "I've chased and been chased around some impossibly huge desert permanently stuck in the middle of the night _after_ invisible people tried to kidnap me--"

"Did you see these people?" he questioned suddenly, his voice cutting her off as he turned around once more to face her.

"Huh? The people--"

"Did you see them?" he demanded.

"Y-yes," she said, "when I fell through my wall, after I landed in the tunnel two of them were there. They couldn't see me but I saw them."

"What did they look like?" he asked again.

"They were wearing black," she said, "they kind of looked like they belonged in a history book. Um, they had swords," she continued, thinking back on the men, "oh and they didn't seem to like Grimmjow--but I don't think people really do like him--and they asked him what he did to me," Orihime trailed off.

Ulquiorra seemed truly angry now, his emerald eyes practically burning with it. The hand in his pocket seemed to be clenching into a fist and the light that gathered in his hand was pulsing, brightening even. Orihime's eyes widened as one of her feet stepped backwards, taking her into a defensive stance. She couldn't figure out what she'd said to make him angry but whatever it had been, it truly had made him so. He turned away from her, seeming to fight with himself over something. Instinctively, Orihime reached into her pocket, her fingers locking around the bracelet. The black robed men hadn't been able to see her when she had it on. Grimmjow had been but there seemed to be clear differences between this man and Grimmjow. Maybe it would work for him. Maybe if she put it on she could disappear. The light above her head was already so bight it was beginning to hurt her eyes and an odd roaring began to fill her ears.

"Stop it!" Orihime cried, "Ulquiorra!"

The shout of his name seemed to jerk him out of whatever had seized him. Abruptly the tunnel was plunged into darkness as the green light vanished. The only sound she could hear was her own harsh breathing, echoing his. She blinked, trying to get her throbbing eyes to adjust but all that she saw was the blue spots from the bright light. She stayed stationary, too afraid to move forward towards him and too concerned to move back into the tunnel. Her breathing calmed and she held her breath, listening through the darkness. His breathing was still labored, as if he was struggling with something--with himself.

"Ulquiorra?" she called his name, her voice tentative.

His breath caught before it became less and less audible as he reigned in control. When green light came into his hand, it illuminated him in control and unreadable once more. His eyes were on the ground but slowly they raised to meet her own. Their eyes locked only for a second before he turned around, looking away from her. He made no move to walk further into the tunnel, standing perfectly still. Orihime took a step forward, her heart drumming in her chest. He did not move, even as she closed the last distance between them. Her fingers reached out to move towards his back. For a moment she hesitated, considering dropping her hand to her side, but she forced herself to reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder.

Just as before when she had touched him, his entire body stiffened. As though being touched by another person was painful to him. She wasn't sure why but she felt sadness fill her at the thought. How could someone be pained by another's touch? Biting her lip, she slowly lowered her hand, pressing it to her chest as she looked at him anxiously. Her hand was still warm from where it had touched him, her palm almost tingling with the contact.

"Ulquiorra are you okay?" she asked, unsure of why she felt such concern.

"I am fine," he said finally, "we need to keep moving."

"Alright," she said, tucking away her questions and following him.

She let him lead, not daring to stop him again. Whatever had happened to him, whatever had been done to him, it had affected the man in front of her very deeply. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself, as if his very soul had betrayed him. But still he had gone with her, leaving the sanctuary he had created for himself to take her with him to whoever had brought her to this place. Though it killed her to do it, Orihime realized she was going to have to be far more tactful when it came to dealing with him. Maybe whoever they were heading towards would be able to answer her questions--she could only hope those answers did not lead to a million more questions.

Finally Ulquiorra stopped and turned to the wall of the tunnel. An opening appeared, which he stepped through. Orihime took a deep breath and followed him. He was standing just ahead of her, his back ramrod strait, his his hand gripping the cloth wrapped object thrust through the belt of his hakama. Orihime looked around at the strange place she found herself in.

The tunnel opened onto a sterile, white corridor.

Orihime sucked in her breath as she took a step backwards, her back hitting a wall that had not been there a moment before. There was something _wrong_ about this place, something terribly wrong. She didn't know what it was and she didn't know if she could stand to figure it out. All she knew was that this place was terrible and she had to get out. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she tried to fight the darkness that was threatening her vision. This place--all of this, it had to be a dream. It just had to be. She knew the smell of the place, the odd combination of sterility and decay, that scent alone enough to make her gag. She could feel the beginning of a panic attack, though her mind told her becoming useless right now was nothing but stupid.

A hand locked around her upper arm, pulling her away from the wall. She turned her gaze to Ulquiorra's eyes. They were just as unreadable as always but somehow she found stability in that. Even as she felt like the world was going to drop from underneath her, his eyes remained unchanging. Nothing she said seemed to truly shatter him, even if it did anger him. She shattered, she shattered _so_ easily. His fingers tightened around her arm, to the point where it became painful. But the pain had the intended effect. It hurt enough to jerk her out of the stupor that threatened her. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him, trying to calm her beating heart.

"Run," he ordered her.

Orihime shook herself and nodded. Shedidn't need to be told twice. She took off down the corridor as fast as she could, not knowing where she was going. A moment later Ulquiorra was beside her. Then he was in front of her, leading her down the way. Orihime focused on keeping up with the surprisingly fast man. Ulquiorra led her down the hallway at a dead run. Orihime couldn't even ask him where they were going, all she could do was run as fast as she could to keep up with him. An action made much easier by the scuttle of feet that reached her ears. Something was perusing them, a lot of somethings by the sound of it. Orihime risked a glance backwards and immediately regretted doing so.

There were hundreds of the things. Faceless white creatures that scuttled towards them on mismatched legs. It was like being perused by creatures out of a nightmare. Part of her wanted to scream but Orihime didn't waste the breath, using the jolt of fear instead to run as fast as she could alongside Ulquiorra. Throwing out a hand, Orihime gaped as an opening appeared suddenly in the wall next to them. She turned quickly, running into it as Ulquiorra let her take the lead for a moment. Orihime heard a sound behind her and realized that as he had opened a gap in the wall, he had closed it as well. Soon he was ahead of her once more, leading them down a hallway that Orihime had no idea where it led.

The landscape did change though, she felt the strain in her legs and realized now they were running on an uphill. Ignoring the ache as the sound of the feet following them became audible once more, Orihime followed him up the hill. The corridor darkened unexpectedly, as if the lights had been all turned off. Light flickered in Ulquiorra's hands, giving them some kind of illumination as they ran up the hill towards some impossible goal. He made some kind of motion once more and the corridor in front of them opening up to the strange night sky once more. Orihime with him and they burst through the opening and into the impossibly strange night sky.

They had a very short amount of room to run. They seemed to be on a cliff of some kind, made of white stone. Orihime was too terrified to take note of where she was as Ulquiorra led her down a piece of the structure that jutted out like a cliff. There was no white sand underneath however, only a dark and endless abyss that seemed to surround the entirety of the structure. Orihime stopped short, throwing her hands out to stop herself from getting any closer to the edge of the cliff. Desperately she turned around to face the stretch of white they had just run across. Their perusers weren't there but they would be, very shortly. She turned her gaze to face Ulquiorra who had placed himself in front of her, acting as a barrier between her and the white, between her and their enemies.

"We need to get out of here," he said as their enemies came out of seemingly nowhere like an endless wave.

"Huh?! Well, in case you didn't notice we're on a cliff!" she shouted, tearing her eyes from the approaching people, "so unless you can fly--" he looked at her over his shoulder, "oh you can _not_ be serious."

"It is the only way," he said, his voice taking on no urgency, as if saying he could fly was something he said every day.

Orihime shook her head, torn between disbelief and outright terror. One of her feet took her back another step, almost to the edge but his hand locked around her upper arm once more as he faced her fully, showing his back to their enemies. Orihime's eyes widened as she looked from his hand to his face and then back to his hand, wondering what the hell was going to do. Emotion flickered in his eyes, as if he was struggling with something. His head turned back to the approaching enemy, the faceless white people who scurried towards them like animals. Determination was written on him as he turned and looked back at her. Orihime sucked in her breath as suddenly he threw out a hand, green light literally roaring to his fingers. Instead of illuminating the way, it literally exploded outwards, a wide gap opening in the ground just beside their feet. As the white rocks fell way, the makeshift pillar they stood on began to lean heavily outwards.

Orihime didn't have time to react as all of a sudden his other arm was underneath her legs and she was off the ground. Instantly her arms went around Ulquiorra's neck as the rocks leaned outwards even more. There was a dull roar, the kind of sound that had accompanied the green light he had thrown at their enemies and a bright light began to eat at Orihime's vision. There was a flash of heat and she heard his chest rumble as he spoke something, though the words were lost to the confusion. Before she could figure out what to say or what was happening, he bent his legs and kicked off the pillar moments before it toppled into oblivion. For a moment they were falling, careening towards some endless abyss. And then Orihime felt something inside him shift, as if his very bones were moving around. She tried to draw back but found that she couldn't move out of his grip.

And then they were flying.

* * *

**And we're flying!**

**Well so much for undetection. Poor Ulqui needs to figure out what he'd going to do to keep this trouble prone Orihime out of, well, trouble. So WTH is up with Ulqui hiding from Las Noches? Who are these badguys? Why do I feel the need to give you so many questions?!**

**I promise we're gonna find out what happened to Ulquiorra and to Orihime soon. Remember, she's not being allowed sleeping pills which means, well, you'll find out soon enough. They're both a bit broken. Maybe they can help each other. **

**Please review! Remember: you review, I write faster! **

**So review!  
**


	5. Alarum lTea Partyl

Flying, Orihime decided, was a very strange thing.

When she had done it she'd been enclosed in a machine. But this, this was completely different. It was like a rollercoaster on a strait trajectory, she could only pray that he wasn't planning on diving down. The only things holding her up were the arms of the man who was flying. One under her legs, one under her shoulders, though she was gripping him so tightly she imagined that if he let go she'd still be attached to him. Orihime had her face buried in his shoulder, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she held on for dear life. It was a terrible sensation, the weightlessness, considering just how far below the darkness stretched. The idea that the only thing holding her up was, well, _him_ was so incredibly unsettling. The odd trust she had held in him was completely gone, overwhelmed by the terror of what would happen if his wings failed.

Orihime didn't know how long she gripped him, her face buried in his shoulder. It was long enough that she felt safe enough to slowly open her eyes. Her face was pressed tightly into his shoulder but she could see the white fabric of his cloths was barely visible. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, her mind a moment to realize they were not flying across the desert but rather through the endless blackness. Her eyes widened as she sucked in her breath and looked over his shoulder. The blackness was impossibly thick, as if it was a tangible thing. She couldn't see anything. She could, however, hear. She heard the steady beat of his wings as he flew through the darkness and, if she focused hard enough, she could see _something_ moving in a constant rhythm. She tightened her grip on him, ignoring the twinge in her arms.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice edged with hysteria.

"Away from them," he replied, his tone oddly distorted, "they cannot follow us here," he elaborated without her prodding him.

"How are you flying?" she demanded, "is this your power? Like, um, that light that you made?"

"You ask too many questions," he said finally. They turned and Orihime gasped, clinging to him, "we are not going to fall."

"You can't expect me to be in this place--surrounded by you people--and not have questions!" Orihime cried, her voice rising, "and I'd have a lot less if _someone_ would answer them!"

He gave no reply this time as they flew through the endless darkness. Slowly Orihime loosened her death grip on him, turning her head very carefully to the other direction, to the direction they were going. There was nothing there either, just the same tangible darkness once again. She realized that they were going down, gradually, but down none the less. The beating of Ulquiorra's wings got slower and slower as he glided more and more. Orihime felt the angle and which she was held change as he lowered his legs. Though she couldn't see when they would land, she braced herself regardless.

The landing was much gentler than she imagined it would be.

She barely felt it when his feet touched the ground. Though she could see nothing, he seemed to have no problem with the darkness. Still holding her, he knelt down and withdrew one of his hands, easing her feet onto the ground. Orihime managed to release her grip on his shoulders, her arm muscles aching with the force of how hard she'd been holding him. He straitened up, his hand sliding from her shoulders, down her arm to her wrist. Orihime searched in the darkness to try and find him but all she could see was a distorted outline. He made no move to illuminate their way, content to stand in the darkness.

"Can you--" Orihime began, "can you give us some light?"

"No," he said, "not without alerting them to our presence," he said, "you must walk forward," he said, "I will join you in a moment."

"Huh?! Alone? In here? No," Orihime shook her head, "I can't see anything!"

"You are on a platform," he said, pulling her gently over to one side and placing her hand against a wall, "it will narrow. You must keep on this path," she shook her head in protest, not knowing how to tell him just how certain she was she wasn't going to be going _anywhere_ in the pitch darkness, "you must."

"No," she refused, "I'm not--"

"Orihime Inoue you must do this," he said, holding her hand firmly against the wall, "I must distract them or they will follow us. Go."

"But--" Orihime looked in the direction of her hand, "but its so--"

"They can_not_ follow us," Ulquiorra said, "you must go and I must distract them. What we want to do is not important."

Orihime bit her lip. There was no argument in his tone, no hesitation either, as though this was a lesson he had learned from experience. Her fingers tightened against the odd substance of whatever made the wall. His hand remained on her wrist as he waited for some kind of confirmation that she would do what he had said. Orihime did not want to go into the darkness, but she did not want those people following them more. She nodded quickly and in the darkness she heard him exhale, as though he was relieved she had agreed. His grip on her wrist tightened fractionally before it loosened. Desperately Orihime grabbed his hand before he could pull it back fully and she felt him stiffen in response to the touch but she held tight.

"Um, ah--hurry?" she said, her voice pleading, "this place is creepy."

"Ah," he said, making a sound of confirmation.

His hand withdrew from hers and she heard him step back moments before she heard him unfurl his wings and kick off the ground, heading off to wherever he was going. Turning back to the direction she had been facing, Orihime took a deep breath and stepped forward, moving her hand along the side of the cavern as it narrowed into another tunnel. Silently vowing to never set foot in another tunnel again, Orihime stepped into the one in front of her. Unfortunately the tunnel wasn't exactly, well, stone. Her foot squelched in something and she could feel something sticky on her hand. Closing her eyes, Orihime gagged and forced her foot up and forward.

She didn't know how long she walked for, just that every miserable step she took was one awful step too many. The tunnel narrowed until even with her arms bent Orihime could touch both sides. She tried not to think about the place narrowing in and squishing her like a bug or what she'd do if she couldn't go any further. Ulquiorra had said that she had to keep going, that she had to go while he drew their enemies off. But he seemed so hesitant to tell her anything, what if he had just left her in this place? What if she was going to walk forever in the dark, slimy tunnel, until she passed out from exhaustion or until something worse came along? Swallowing thickly, she tucked her hand into her pocket and locked her hand around the bracelet. She felt as if she had disappeared anyway. Maybe vanishing a bit more wouldn't hurt?

She didn't hear the person coming behind her.

She _felt_ them. Felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest. It could have been Ulquiorra behind her but she didn't know. They were coming quick, quickly and silently. Orihime lifted her foot and placed it in front of her, letting her hand slowly drop from the wall as she made herself as compact as possible. Her assailant stepped forward. It was hard to judge distance in the pitch blackness. But she managed to surmise when they were close. She didn't feel their body heat but she thought she heard them behind her. They slowed their pace as well, as if they didn't want to alert her to their presence.

Orihime stopped dead in her tracks and buried her elbow in his stomach.

Her assailant doubled over as Orihime spun around and slammed the heel of her hand into his nose, intent on breaking it. She heard _something_ break but it wasn't the bone she had been intending to. It sounded like something had broken off her assailant. She heard something hit the ground, like a chip off a block followed by the sound of something much heavier hitting the ground. Even though she knew she should keep hitting them the sound was strange enough to make her pause.

"Its me," her assailant spoke, taking advantage of the pause.

"Ulquiorra!" Orihime gasped, her hands flying up to cover her face, "oh my God, I'm so sorry! Why didn't you say anything--are you okay?!"

"I am fine," he said, as if there was nothing wrong, "we need to keep moving."

She heard him bend down and pick something up off the ground, settling it somewhere on himself. He stepped forward--or she thought he did, it was very hard to tell given the fact he seemed to know how to walk on whatever they were standing on with far less noise than she did. He stopped though when he was close enough that Orihime was aware of his presence. She shirked back, away from him and he stepped forward, once more taking the lead. Orihime reached out and touched the tunnel, trying not to feel too disgusted at the substance that her fingers touched.

'Keep your hand there," he said.

"Alright," she replied, her voice soft.

"It is not far," he said finally.

Orihime nodded, though he couldn't see, and they set off across the tunnel once more. To her immense relief it did not narrow further, remaining as narrow as it was. There was no natural progression of light, the darkness remained the same. The only difference she could see was that the ground got more disgusting. The thick muck rose up until it came to mid-way up her calves, almost to the tops of her boots. Walking became enough of a struggle that she heard Ulquiorra's feet struggling to move through the muck as well. Still they pressed onwards, in the dark , foul smelling place, going to a destination unknown to Orihime. She hated to follow blindly but she did not have a choice. Going back through this place to more darkness was simply not an option. Not anymore. The only thing that she could do was follow him into the darkness.

"We are here."

Orihime stopped, trying to figure out why this place was the one they were headed to. The muck was still dangerously close to her boot tops and everything still smelled just a foul, looked just as dark. But apparently this was the place that Ulquiorra had been taking them. Orihime heard him move in the darkness, walking over to the wall. He stuck his own hand into the side as well, burying his fingers in the gunk. From the wet, sucking sound however, his hand was pressed far deeper into it. She heard him find what he was looking for, his hand locking around what she would guess to be a lever. She heard him tug. There was the sound of gears turning, rotating somewhere deep in the cave. she heard him release his hand and pull it free from the muck. The gears continued to rotate, somewhere deep inside the tunnel.

"Ulquiorr--ahh!" Orihime's words were cut off with a scream as the tunnel rotated downwards.

She fought to stay upright but it was useless. The tunnel turned into a chute of some kind, the ground knocking into her back. Her boots pulled free of the mud and she found herself sliding down. The mud was smooth where her feet hadn't dented it and there was absolutely nothing to slow her fall. All they could do was fly down towards the bottom of the ramp. After the first scream, Orihime's breath left her throat as they flew towards the bottom. It was then that there was light at the bottom, light that they were rocketing towards. She saw Ulquiorra between the toes of her boots as he slid out first but all too soon she followed him. For a second she was weightless as the tunnel ran out of tunnel and then she hit the ground heavily, her bottom hitting the green, mossy covered ground.

Inhaling sharply, Orihime remained sitting as she looked around, her eyes searching for Ulquiorra. He was sitting next to her, one hand pressed to his head as he looked up. She followed his gaze to see the tunnel disappearing up into one of the trees that stretched towards the darkness. Orihime let her eyes go lower. The trees were the same as the crystal ones she had seen on the desert. Only these were massive, larger even than most of the trees she saw back at home. Almost afraid of what she'd see, Orihime looked down and groaned. She was covered from head to toe in the foul stuff they had slid down. From the crown of her head to the soles of her boots, there wasn't an inch of her not covered in the stuff. She looked over at Ulquiorra. He too was covered in it, his once white cloths turned purple with the goop. Even his white skin was covered in it, his helmet dripped it from the lone horn.

"I'm guessing that wasn't part of the plan," Orihime said.

Ulquiorra looked over at her. His face was a mixture of horror, disgust and surprise, the emotions clear and stark on his features. He looked almost comical, covered in foul smelling purple goop, as if his facade was finally broken. In a way, she supposed it was. It was hard to be collected when you were sitting there looking like they did. Slowly Ulquiorra shook his head, the simple action enough to send drops of the stuff flying. Orihime covered her face, struck by the urge to smile. She bit her lip but when an odd bitterness reached her tongue, she released it, forced to give into the smile that tugged at her. Much to her horror, the smile turned into full blown laughter at the sight of a disgusted Ulquiorra. He looked at her blankly, obviously not understanding what she could possibly find so funny.

"I'm sorry," she laughed, "its just--the look on your face--" she doubled over, laughing harder, unable even to use her hands to muffle the sound.

She didn't hear Ulquiorra get to his feet, didn't see him move until he stood in front of her. She tried to calm her laughter, looking up at him, plainly waiting to see if he was going to offer her his hand. But he made no such movement. Unwilling to be stubborn and wait it out, Orihime pushed herself to her feet, wincing as the goop that had slid into her boot squelched between her toes. As she stood she realized her arms ached, especially her wrist. She must have clung to him very tightly if her arms hurt because of it. Frowning Orihime moved her arms, wincing as they ached more with the motion. The pain in her arms went away as long as she kept them still but her wrist throbbed.

"Did you injure yourself?" he asked.

"No," Orihime said, ignoring the urge to grip her wrist. He looked at her calmly, as if they had all the time in the world and were not standing covered in gunk in the middle of a crystal forrest, "I'm fine. Is there anywhere we can wash this stuff off?"

"No."

"No?" Orihime repeated, "but--" she looked at her body, "this stuff is disgusting. Besides, there's got to be water around her somewhere," she looked at the trees and the ground.

"There is not."

"But living things _need_ water," she said. Ulquiorra gave no reply, turning instead and walking forward. Orihime frowned before she quickly caught up to him, "they need water, don't they?" she repeated.

"Ah," he said, "living things need water."

"Then _why_ don't these things need water? Why don't you need it?" she stopped, realizing she wasn't thirsty, "why don't _i_ need it?!"

Ulquiorra stopped and turned around, his green eyes locking on her. His arm tensed and she thought he was going to put his hand over her mouth, but he did not raise a hand to her. It struck her as odd, how whenever they touched she was either in danger or grabbing him. He seemed not to want to touch her--not that he seemed to like the limited contact they had.

"Do not speak so loudly," he said, glancing upwards as if he was checking something.

"Why not?" she asked. He gave no reply, "what? You think I can't handle whatever's out there?" she demanded, "you just made me walk through some disgusting, muck filled tunnel in the pitch black and you think I can't deal with whatever's out there?"

He looked down at her, seemingly torn between what she was asking for and the desire not to tell her what it was. Orihime kept their eyes locked together, unwilling to look away. She was angry at him, angry at the fact that one moment he seemed to think she was capable and the next he seemed sure that she needed to be babied and protected. Orihime didn't know if it was because she was a woman, a newcomer or something else, but it was clear that Ulquiorra didn't quite know what to do with her. Only that he wanted her safe and, apparently, he didn't want her to touch him--the latter of which Orihime could not help doing since everyone she seemed to be meeting enjoyed running off in the opposite direction as fast as they could.

"There are creatures out there that wish to consume us," he said, "this," he motioned to the purple stuff, "will protect us. But we must move quickly before it wears off."

"Wears off how?" Orihime asked, raising an eyebrow as they continued to walk, "so, no water, why?"

"I ask you to save your questions," Ulquiorra said, 'the one I am taking you to will be able to answer them far better than I am able to."

"Who are you taking me to?" Orihime asked.

"The person who brought you here," he said.

Orihime nodded, forcing herself to be quiet as the two of them made their way through the new and alien landscape. Patches of the ground seemed to be covered in a green substance but the rest of it was barren rock. Crystal trees were everywhere, impossibly tall and thick. It was as if they were at the very bottom of the world. There was a strange beauty to the place, but it could have easily been Orihime's gratitude at being able to see where she was going--even if she had no idea where that could be. Ulquiorra, on the other hand, seemed to have an idea of where they were headed. Still she saw his head move as he looked for something, taking them deeper and deeper into the trees. Perhaps the thing Orihme had the most issue with was the terrible smell. Still, she heard movement in the trees, movement of something _big_, and if the purple goop was keeping them from being made into dinner, then Orihime told herself she would deal with the terrible smell. Especially if she survived long enough to get answers.

They didn't walk for a very long time and the walking was far easier without forcing their way through the mud. She was aware of the burning in her leg muscles, the ache of her arms and the throb of her wrist. Exhaustion did not set in, no more than it already gnawed at her. Soon Ulquiorra stopped. Orihime stopped behind him, following his gaze once more upwards. Whatever she had expected, what she saw was completely different.

High above them, nestled in the trees, was a house.

It seemed to be constructed of the same material as the trees, that odd, dully colored quartz. At the moment lights glowed welcomingly in windows of it but if they had been off Orihime imagined it would be easy to miss it from the ground. And given the small buckets suspended all around, she had a feeling that whatever was threatening to eat them also did not feel the need to go near the structure. Ulquiorra walked over to the base of the tree. Orihime followed him until they stood directly under the house. Orihime waited for something to happen, some magical ladder or platform but nothing happened. Ulquiorra seemed content to stand there perfectly still as well. Orihime frowned and shifted on the balls of her feet, anxious to be somewhere other than the forrest they stood in.

Abruptly a ladder was thrown down.

Orihime jumped back, surprised at the appearance of it. Rough rope linked together something that looked suspiciously like animal bones. Orihime looked doubtfully at her purple gunk covered hands before looking over at Ulquiorra. He looked back at her, plainly waiting for her to go up the ladder, inevitably so he could make sure that nothing followed them up the bottom of it.

"Are we--" she began

"Yes," he replied.

"Well I'm not going first," Orihime said. Ulquiorra looked at her, obviously confused, "I am in a dress," she said, "and i might have been through a lot and I might be currently covered in purple gunk and sand but i am _not_ going to let some stranger look up the bottom of my dress."

Ulquiorra wordlessly reached up and grabbed the first bone, stepping onto the ladder and beginning to climb. Orihime wiped her hands on the only clean part of her skirt she could find. Reaching out she took hold of the bone and stepped onto the ladder as well. They were, in fact, bones. Rough bones that made it unfortunately easy to hold on. Trying not to think about her strange situation, focusing only on the fact that no-one was looking up her skirt and she was _finally_ about to get some answers, Orihime continued to climb up the ladder towards the strange house at the top. It seemed like the longest ladder in the world--and it very well could have been--but finally she found herself in the shadow of the house. Orihime didn't think she had ever been quite so happy to see a shadow in her entire life.

Ulquiorra was at the top of the ladder, watching her as she climbed. When she reached some invisible line, he reached above him and pushed at the flat door. Nothing happened. Orihime hesitated in reaching for the next rung as he reached up and knocked on the flat door. A moment later it was flung open. Orihime turned her head down as the golden light engulfed her. Apparently her eyes had adjusted better to the dimness than she originally thought. Blinking she looked back up at Ulquiorra. He looked down at her and gave a nod for her to follow before disappearing into the house. Heart beating rapidly, Orihime climbed up the last few rungs and climbed into the house, standing up quickly and trying to get as little of the purple gunk on the floor as she could.

Straitening up, Orihime sucked in her breath at the sight that greeted her.

There was no crystal in here. The floors and the walls were all made of pale wood. The house was bigger than she'd originally thought, big enough so she could see paper screens separating parts of it. They seemed to be standing in some sort of main room. Tables and chairs were there, along with another sitting area and a workspace. Outside she could see well lit platforms that extended out from the house, still nestled in the trees. The house was perfectly lit in warm light, but Orihime couldn't see a single candle anywhere. The place was so warm and inviting that Orihime thought she would cry. Ulquiorra, on the other hand, seemed to be growing angrier with every passing second. As if being in the place was the most foul thing in the world. Orihime couldn't understand how _anyone_ could think that about this place. And answers, oh she was going to get answers from whoever the person who lived here was. Orihime could barely stand it as she stood there, straining to hear whoever lived inside.

"Hello?" she called, when Ulquiorra made no motion to get the person's attention, "is anyone there?"

One of the side room screen doors were suddenly thrown open as a man stepped dramatically out. He certainly was dressed like no-one Orihime had ever set eyes on before. His cloths were all patchwork, mended a hundred times over and stitched from various other garments. Colors of white and green predominated but she could see everything from a violent orange elbow patch to an odd ribbon of cherry red sewn serving as a cuff. She heard Ulquorra inhale sharply, angrily even at the sight of the man but for the life of her Orihime couldn't see why. Underneath his messy hair he wore a grin that could only be described as friendly. Orihime found herself smiling back at him.

"Welcome, Orihime Inoue, and may I say, even if you do not remember me, it is _wonderful_ to see you again."

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**Whose that?!**

**Find out next time!  
**

**Don't forget to review--or choose to do it anyway. Remember, you review, I update!**

**So please review! **


	6. Summer Shudder

**Cookies to everyone who guessed Urahara! **

**Gin fans, don't worry, he's coming.**

**A few things before we get into this chapter: its from Ulqui's slightly tortured point of view. Its still largely mysterious but we're gonna get into it now with both of their viewpoints. In fact, this is kind of where I feel the story takes off and we're gonna start getting some answers.**

**Answers and smexy time.**

***cough***

**well smexy time's coming soon. **

**

* * *

  
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The breeze was almost comforting on the back of his neck.

Almost.

It had taken two hours of scrubbing to get the purple stuff off his skin, two hours and yet he could still smell its lingering oder. But he dared not spend more time in the water scrubbing than he had to. He had to be careful when he did take it off. His skin was not what it had been once. But eventually the stuff had filled the basin and he had once more been clean--or as clean as he ever found himself these days. He had changed into the tattered garments laid out for him, his own cloths would take a bit to dry. The moment he had been dressed he had walked out of the small house and onto the platform suspended high above the forrest. And there he stood, looking out at the blackness that stretched in front of them for farther than his eye could see. But, then again, it had been a very long time since Ulquiorra Cifer had looked for answers in the darkness.

There were no answers out there. No more than there were inside the house in the trees. Just more questions, piling on top of each other in an endless mountain that was certain to bury them all. Still he found his eyes drawn to the blackness. Perhaps it was the lingering smell of the purple stuff, the same smell that had lingered everywhere in the early days of Las Noches before Lord Aizen had confined Szayel mess to a single portion of the palace. Still it had taken weeks--months even--for the smell to truly be gone. Ulquiorra blinked, half surprised at the thought. It had been a very long time since he had thought about the inhabitants of the palace that he had once thought of, in a vague sense, as home. He knew some of them were still out there, still wreaking havoc on the landscape. And others, others had followed their new leader. He was surprised at how quickly they had divided, though their previous internal battles should have made it clear just how easily they would turn on each other.

He did not know why he had expected things to be different, only that he had.

Hope, Ulquiorra decided, was nothing more than a waste of time.

As were all the strange emotions he felt. It was not that he had not felt them before, but now they were heightened. They were all encompassing. He could no more hide them than the world could go back to the way it should be--though he had found himself wishing desperately for both things to happen. Neither did. It was as if he had been split in two. His head knew what he felt was nothing more than foolishness, his head was rational. But the rest of him, the rest of him fell prey to the wild feelings that pounded through him with each beat of a force he did not truly understand--did not _want_ to understand. All that Ulquiorra Cifer wanted was for things to go back to how they had been, before he had been ordered to kidnap the girl behind him. Before her friends had come to rescue her. Before he had _died--again--_only to be brought back in a state he would not wish on anyone.

He had hidden himself away because of his duty. Because despite everything that had happened, despite the defeat of the man who had given him the order, he was still bound to it. Protect Lad Noches. So he had gathered what remained of Las Noches and he had protected it. Compelled by something he did not understand, he had followed his orders as best he could. He knew that no-one was coming to release him from the strange force that bound him to comply with his orders, but he had followed them all the same. Both the people who had chosen the desert and the ones who had chose the new ruler came to recruit him but he had refused them both. He had not wanted a side, had not wanted to fight another battle. Not after everything that had happened. So he had chosen not to. If they were curious about his reasons they knew better than to ask. Except for Grimmjow. He had snarled about his cowardice until Ulquiorra drew Mucielago, intent on releasing it. Grimmjow was not entirely stupid and he had left quickly, throwing another insult over his shoulder. The last Ulquiorra heard he was in the desert. Perhaps he had become tired of taking orders.

Ulquiorra pressed his hands into the wood rail that encircled the balcony, his fingers curling around the smooth object. He should not have gone with her, he should not have involved himself in whatever was going on here. He should not have and yet he knew that the moment she had stepped through the makeshift door that he would take her to this place. There was one person who would have brought her here in the manner she came. Despite the numerous changes that had happened to this world--and to the Arrancar that inhabited it--things were not drastically different enough for them to open gates in the manner she described. Only Shinigami could do that and there was only one Shinigami that Ulquiorra knew of who would have the audacity to do what had been done.

"I thought I'd find you out here."

Kisuke Urahara.

Grief did strange things to people. Guilt did as well. Ulquiorra had not known the exact nature of the circumstances that brought Kisuke Urahara to Hueco Mundo, only that one day the scientist had stood before him in the desert. Ulquiorra did not know if it had been Soul Society's orders that send him down their, their Banishment or something else entirely, only that the scientist was there and Ulquiorra wished to have as much distance between himself and the eccentric blond man as he could. Unfortunately Urahara usually wound up wishing for just the opposite. Ulquiorra had no desire to be the subject of the scientists scrutiny, no matter how justified the reasons were and especially not because he was thought to be kept his gaze ahead, his fingers tightening on the balcony rail as he forced himself not to engage the scientist. Once he was sure she was safe, he was going to leave.

"You know," Urahara continued, "denial is a very human emotion," Ulquiorra inhaled sharply, "as is anger."

"I have no interest in what you consider to be human emotion," Ulquiorra said finally, when he was certain his voice would come out steady.

"There's no need to be upset," Urahara said, "its perfectly natural--"

"_Nothing_ in this is natural," Ulquiorra cut him off, unable to listen to him, "why did you bring her here?"

"Me?" Urahara's voice was actually surprised, "i did no such thing."

"That is a lie!" Ulquiorra rounded on him, "you brought her here. You are the _only_ one who could have opened the Gate she spoke of. Who would have had Grimmjow of all people waiting for her."

"As flattering as that is," Urahara said, "I am not the only Shinigami capable of opening a Senkei Gate. And if I was going to send someone for her, it would have been you, not Grimmjow."

Ulquiorra looked at the scientist, trying to see if he was telling the truth. But it was impossible. He had always been able to read the trash he interacted with--it was what gave him an edge. But that ability was gone, it and many other useful ones. And for what? So he could be standing in the middle of the forrest, surrounded by people he should have wanted dead, struggling with emotions that he should not have given a second glance to? He had no desire for any of this and yet here he was, so angry he could barely see strait. Urahara just stood there in his mended cloths, his face unreadable. Irrationally the only thing that Ulquiorra wanted to do was slam Urahara up against the wall and beat him until the fragile herrior that covered his knuckles shattered, until whatever lay beneath was torn and bloody. Until the scientist was finally silent.

It took every ounce of control he had to reign in the furious emotions, to restrain himself from acting on the release they promised. He had not killed an enemy that mattered since his rebirth, though he had been seriously tempted many _many_ times. This was no different. He was _not_ going to slam his fist through Urahara's chest and rip out whatever decrepit heart lay there. Urahara knew it just as well as he did. There was no surprise in his eyes when Ulquiorra stepped back, looking away as he fought to collect himself. Finally his eyes locked once more with Urahara's, a thin veil of control barely masking the raw emotions that still raged within him.

"However she got here," he said, his voice tight, "whoever sent her--" he took a deep breath, "she must return to the transient world

"Ulquiorra," Urahara sighed, "she can't just go back. The Shinigami are probably looking for her. If she goes back now--" he trailed off almost sadly.

"They will not hurt her," Ulquiorra said, "she is of the living."

"You know as well as I do that they'll know she was here. The Shinigami who came for her probably already told Yamamoto about Grimmjow's presence. Its only a matter of time before they send a search party down here to look for her."

"Then I will leave."

"That's not going to matter. Given your state, you were chased. Someone saw you two together and the Shinigami are going to find out."

Wordlessly Ulquiorra shook his head, unable to believe what he was saying was true. The anger that had been raging through him was suddenly a cold, hard knot in the bottom of his stomach. Much like the feeling he had felt when he had seen her standing there, looking at him as she had. He could run but it would do them no good, the Shinigami would know that she was in Hueco Mundo once more. But, more importantly, they would know that she had been with _him_. Ulquiorra wished that there was a chance that no-one would find out but given their history he knew that luck was most definitely not on their side. He should have just let her walk out, told her something about which way Nel or Grimmjow went and let her leave. He should not have come with her.

It was not as though she would have seen anything strange with that.

She certainly did not see how every second he had been with her, he had been in pain. The way she looked at him--or, rather, the way she did not look at him, was nothing short of agony. She knew nothing. She did not question why he had agreed to help her, she had just followed him. He wanted to yell at her, to tell her that she should not just be following strangers all over the desert--even if a stranger was the last thing he was to her. But she did not know that. She did not know anything, not anymore. Not since they had taken her away from this place at the end of the War.

Not since they took her memories.

Hers and everyone else's. Ulquiorra had not known until Urahara had come to this place and told them that Soul Society was anything but forgiving, even to its heroes and especially to its traitors. Ichigo would no more remember him if he was to walk up and plunge his fist through his heart than Ishida would believe him if he told him he had once cut off his hand. No powers, no memories, _nothing_. It had seemed unfathomable to him that she would not remember him, not remember what had transpired on the top of the Dome. But when he had met her again he had wished that it would seem a bit less real. This was not the woman who had surprised them all, this was not the woman who had made his heart stutter when she looked into his eyes and told him she was not afraid of him. This was a completely different person and Uqluiorra had absolutely _no_ idea what to do with her. All he knew was that she was in a huge amount of trouble.

Because of him.

Again.

"Then what--"

"We need to know who brought her here and why," Urahara said, his voice turning serious, "someone wanted her here."

"She is powerless," Ulquiorra said.

"Oh I don't know about that," Urahara said.

"Her powers are gone," Ulquiorra clarified.

"I know," Urahara said. Ulquiorra looked away, "she made her choice, Ulquiorra," Urahara began.

"She would not have chosen that path if she had known--" he started before trailing off when Urahara said nothing, "she is powerless," he said finally, "why would she be brought here?"

"Well," Urahara said, "just because she doesn't have her powers now doesn't mean she couldn't conceivably get them back," Urahara continued thoughtfully, "it would actually be easy for her to master them again, all the knowledge and muscle memory is there, she's just got to unlock it again."

"There you two are."

Ulquiorra's head flew up as he looked at her. Like him she had traded her garments for a pair of threadbare ones that Urahara kept somewhere even though he was sure the blond haired scientist did not receive many visitors. Hers was a dress, sleeveless and high necked with far too much white in it for Ulquiorra to feel comfortable about seeing her dressed as she was. She did not look like a girl anymore, not that she had by the end of her initial stay in Las Noches. But the last vestiges of girlhood were gone. Her hair was shorter as well, now it barely came past her shoulders. The flower hair pins were nowhere to be seen. All of it was strange. Time passed differently in Hueco Mundo, he knew that, but still it was strange to see the young woman who stood in front of him. Perhaps if she looked different it would have been easier to look at her. But it was not and the warped version of Orihime that stood in front of him only reminded him of just how different she was without her memories.

"Thank you so much," she said to Urahara.

"Its is no trouble at all," he said, "now then, I imagine you want some answers."

"Yes," Orihime said, her smile slipping off her face as she looked at him.

"I'm afraid I can't give them to you," Urahara said.

Despair flared in her eyes as she looked at him, obviously not happy about what he was saying. Ulquiorra felt something inside him twist at the sorrow in her gaze. She seemed confused, confused and helpless but unwilling to admit such emotion. He saw it as she forced the emotions down, raising her chin to look Urahara defiantly in the eye. If he had any feelings on the new Orihime, Urahara showed none of them as he returned her gaze. If anything he seemed almost sorry that he couldn't answer her questions.

"Why not?" Orihime demanded, "I thought--"

"Please, don't misunderstand," Urahara said, "its not that I don't _want_ to give them to you, its that I truly _cannot_," he looked over at Ulquiorra, "perhaps he can explain better."

Ulquiorra swore a slow and painful death on Urahara as Orihime turned her gaze towards him. With a smile and a wink, he turned around and walked back into the house, leaving the two of them alone. Ulquiorra moved his gaze back to her. It was strange, the trust in her eyes, because he was certain she did not remember him. Yet she looked at him like she knew that no matter what he'd make sure she was safe--a fact he had only recently become aware of. He was both frustrated and fascinated by that, how she seemed to know him better than he knew himself. It was less now but it was still there, that uncanny ability of hers to look past everything he was and into a part of him he had not known was there. She took a step forward, approaching him carefully.

"Ulquiorra?" she asked, "what is he talking about?"

The look in her eyes was far too innocent, far too trusting. How could she believe that he had anything to offer her but more trouble and pain? He turned away from her, unable to meet her gaze. Her touch was torture but her voice, her voice was even harder to listen to. It was that voice that he had heard as he faded into the wind, his vision already gone. It was that voice, the sound of her quiet sobbing that had been the first thing he heard as his body reformed on the cold ground. That voice had been the very last thing he heard as the Shinigami came to escort her back to Soul Society. And now she spoke, with no knowledge of what the trust she had placed in him had cost her, and every word, every touch brought him closer to the breaking point.

"Please," she implored, her voice barely more than a whisper, "_tell_ me."

"I--" he stopped, his fingers digging into the wood, "I apologize but we do not know what brought you here."

"That's not what I mean and you know it," she said stepping forward, "Ulquiorra why does everyone seem to know my name? Why does a man I've never seen before tell me that its nice to see me again?" he kept his back turned to her. Still could not help but tense when her hand touched his shoulder, "why do you always look as though you're in pain when I touch you?"

It was not painful and that was the problem. She had only touched him a handful of times before that last time. Despite playing the scene over a hundred times in his head, he realized that he would never really know why he had reached out for her. Perhaps it was because he was standing there, dying, surrounded by enemies and her face was the only one he cared to look at. Perhaps it was because they had a connection, one neither understood, but they were connected regardless. Or maybe, in the worst twist of all, he had reached for her because he knew that no matter what happened his heart would always be something he associated with her. He had no understood the words of Ichigo Kurosaki, when he was accused of being 'more human', not until he had been faced with the changes that came with being human. Changes that did not aide his survival in Hueco Mundo. Changes that were making it impossible to deal with her, even if she did not know that they had happened.

"Even if I told you," he said, turning to face her as her hand slid down by her side, "that is all it would be. You would not remember."

"What?" her hand pressed to her mouth as she looked at him, her grey eyes filled with emotion, "not remember?" she struggled to control herself, letting her hands go to her side, "what wouldn't I remember?"

Ulquiorra said nothing, trying to figure out what he was supposed to tell her but she continued to speak.

"I mean, I know I've got memory loss--" he looked at her sharply, "but how did you know about the accident?"

"What accident?" he questioned looking at her.

"The car accident," she said, "its been six years. I was hit by a car--or that's what they tell me anyway. I was really badly injured. The doctors said that given what happened my memory loss was kind of expected."

An accident. They had staged a car accident to cover up her injuries and they had wiped her mind to be certain. All because she had made the choice to follow what she believed in. All because she had shown more humanity than Soul Society ever had. Because of that this had happened. Because of that they were standing there, him unable to even be close to her and her with no knowledge of why it was so painful. The sadness he felt was such a sharp contrast from the anger he had previously been lost in. His eyes met hers and he saw the same curiosity in her gaze that she had when she looked at him, as if she was trying to figure out what he was thinking. There had been a time when she had known, when she had understood everything before even he had.

"How long ago?" he asked.

"The accident?" she looked down, thinking back, "its six years now," she raised her head to meet his, "or it will be in a couple of months."

Six years. Time was much harder to keep track of in a place that was filled with endless night but Ulquiorra was certain it had been more than six years. It felt like a lifetime to him. Six years that he had sat there guarding rubble. Six years that he had watched the world end and be reborn, power shifting and diving friends and foes alike. Six impossibly long years for Orihime Inoue to transform from what she had been to the creature who stood in front of him today. The woman she had been he had only just been beginning to understand. But the woman she was now, he had no idea what to do with. All he could think was that it would have been better for the both of them if she had simply let him die on the top of the dome six years ago.

"Please," she said, "tell me what's happening. What did I loose in the accident?"

"You lost much," he said. She nodded but he did not elaborate, instead turning away from her.

"Ulquiorra?" she spoke his name tentatively, obviously unsure of how to deal with him and Ulquiorra knew he had let his emotions show on his face too much, "why can't you tell me?"

"It would change nothing," he said.

"But--" she began, "but it would let me know what's going on," she said, "please, Ulquiorra, I feel like my head's been spinning from the moment I stepped through that tunnel," she gave a small grin that only made him feel sick, "I can't--I can't keep going on like this. Even if I don't remember, I at least want to know what I'm doing--why I'm here," he looked away sharply, "please," she repeated.

"You have been here before," he said finally, his voice sounding dull even to his own ears.

She clapped her hands over her mouth, looking up at him with wide eyes. For a moment he thought she would remember, just magically know what had transpired between them, that she would remember what Soul Society had taken from her. But from the surprise in her eyes he realized that that was not the case. She did not remember him. She only knew that she had been there because he had told her it. There were other things he could tell her. He could tell her about what she had done. He could tell her how the simple actions of one girl had forever changed the world she saw before her. He could tell her how she was stronger than she knew and more of a hero than that fool Kurosaki ever would be. He could tell her so many things but it would only be that: him telling her. And she would continue to stand there, looking at him with her eyes wide and sad and innocent. Shakily she lowered her hands, fisting them in the fabric of her skirt.

"I--" she tried to speak but her voice was choked with emotion, "I--" she turned to him, her eyes still wide, "I dreamed of this place. Of that tunnel, of the endless white," she shook her head almost desperately, "I never thought the dreams were real!"

"They were not," he said, his voice tight.

"But we--we went there! That white palace," she looked back the way they came as though she could see it, "I remembered being there--"

"You dreamed," he cut her off, her gaze flying back to him, "that is all."

"But there were _people_ in that dream," she said, "people whose faces I never saw--" she looked at him, "I have to help them, whoever they are, I have to help them."

It was a joke. It had to be some kind of a sick joke that the universe wished to play on him. She was serious. He knew exactly what she was talking about. There had been one time back then that she had been on the dome of Las Noches, when he fought Kurosaki and she had that Quincy bring her up. She had wanted to help back then, even when she knew that she couldn't--and in the end she had spent most of the time screaming. Now she wanted to help once again, not knowing that helping was what had landed her in this position in the first place. But there was calmness in her eyes, she believed she had a purpose. Orihime Inoue had always been the type of person who was more focused on helping the people around her than looking after herself. It was why she had come to Las Noches in the first place, to save her friends. And now she was speaking about saving strangers, not knowing the danger she was already in. Ulquiorra knew that even if he told her, she probably would just go off running to do it anyway.

"Until a very short time ago," Ulquiorra said, "there were no 'people' in Las Noches."

"But that's impossible," she said, "there's Grimmjow and Nel and you--"

"I am _not_ a person," he said, anger slipping in his voice as he took a step towards her. Fear sparked in her eyes and for a moment he thought he had been successful but then she took a step forward to match his and looked into his eyes, drawing herself up to her full height though it scarcely made a difference.

"I don't care," she said, "if I've been here before I've obviously survived this place. And even if you all aren't people, that doesn't mean you don't deserve to be saved."

"What are you going to save us from?" Ulquiorra questioned.

"Whatever chased us in the palace," she said, not missing a beat, "whatever you saved us from. I was brought here for a reason," she continued, "those black robed people wanted me for something but Grimmjow helped me--"

"Do not assume that Grimmjow had any true intention of helping you," he said.

"But he helped me--"

"To serve his purposes," he said, realizing that she didn't remember anything--including the conflict between the Arrancar and the Shinigami, "the Shinigami--"

"The what?"

"The black robed people. They are our enemies. You are a pawn," he said, "nothing more."

Orihime looked down and for the briefest moment he felt bad about what he had said, bad that he had caused her to feel upset. But she only kept her eyes averted for a moment before she raised her head and looked at him, her grey eyes locking with his own emerald ones. She took another step forward, closing the distance between them even more. Ulquiorra felt his leg move to take a step back but found it impossible--as impossible as looking away from her gaze would have been. He was locked in place as he looked at the woman standing in front of him.

"If I'm a pawn," she said, "then why are you protecting me?"

* * *

**Oh SNAP what's he gonna say to that?!**

**Okay before everyone starts yelling about OOC-ness, let me explain a few things. As we saw from the Lust Arc, when Ulquiorra flips his shit, he REALLY flips his shit. He doesn't know how to deal with his emotions except to isolate himself and she's cranked his emotions up to high. Ulquiorra's having a bit of a freak out but he's gonna figure it out soon.**

**Also don't worry because we're gonna learn what Orihime did, why Urahara's in Hueco Mundo and who the heck is messing with everyone....again. All I can say is I'm having a BLAST figuring out their scenes. Because the bad guy is just being SO much fun to work with. There are multiple bad guys but H.M. has its own special one who we meet first.**

**Oh and before I get people going "why can't he just crush his eye and show her everything?!" well, there's a reason for that that a few smartie-pants sorta caught onto last chapter and the rest of you are gonna find out soon. I alluded to it in this one.**

**So please review! Seriously you guys are rocking out on reviews for this one and I love you for it! Of course I show my love by updating. So lets give a little love, you on the review end and me on the writing end.**

**So Review!**


	7. The Interview

**Hi everyone!**

**So, quick note, its not uncommon for survivors of serious physical trauma to struggle with depression which can lead to both cutting and suicide attempts. I know it'd be awesome if when you got out the other side of something that almost cost you everything you were happy but that's usually not the case. Its a bit uncomfortable but necessary for the story. So sorry if you're uncomfy. **

**ONWARDS!**

* * *

Storming back into the house, Orihime Inoue wanted nothing more than to march right back out there and beat Ulquiorra until whatever that white stuff he called skin was dust on the ground.

She didn't know what was wrong with Ulquiorra, only that he was succeeding in making her angrier than anyone else she'd yet to encounter in this place. It was like he knew everything that made her angry, everything that got on her nerves. Worse, he didn't seem to have a problem with using it. If she needed any more indication that she had been to this place before, that was it. But it was so supremely unfair. How could he know everything, every little thing that infuriated her, everything that made her upset--he knew it _all_ and she knew absolutely nothing about him. How was she supposed to deal with this? How was she supposed to fight in any capacity with someone who knew about her like he did?

After her demand he'd said absolutely nothing.

Not a word, he hadn't even _looked_ at her. It was as if after her demand she ceased to exist. How could one person be so rude to another? How could he expect her to just wait there for him to do something? He'd turned his back to her and she'd seen red. But he hadn't done anything. He hadn't responded to any of her threats and when she'd touched his shoulder he'd jerked away. It was nothing unlike what he'd done before but now with the knowledge that she'd lost something, that she'd lost her memories, everything he did seemed like he was slapping _her_ in the face. As if his refusal to interact with her was more than simply that. As if it was, well, as if it was a betrayal.

Orihime knew there was a good chance she'd known Ulquiorra when she'd been in this place before. That really was the only reason why he'd be acting this way to her. But for the life of her she couldn't figure out what she could have possibly done to make him act this way towards her. Had she been so horrible to him that now he couldn't even _look_ at her? Orihime wasn't in the habit of being horrible to people--in fact, if she thought about it she'd say that, as a general rule, she got along rather well with people. But not with Ulquiorra apparently. It seemed like every second he spent in her company was torture for him. Orihime didn't know why, but the idea that she was torturing the emerald eyed man seemed to pain her as well. She didn't remember him and even if she'd been horrible to him the last time she'd been there, she certainly didn't want to hurt him now.

Crossing the room, Orihime reached out and pulled open another door that led to a platform that stuck out from the house. Their cloths were there, hanging out to dry. Half heartedly Orihime touched the skirt of her dress, only to find that it was still soaking wet. They hadn't been there that long and there certainly wasn't enough sun to dry their cloths quickly. There was no sun at all. Craning her neck up, Orihime peered into the blackness that stretched above them. How had she possibly survived in a place like this? She certainly couldn't have been here very long. How could anyone survive down here for a long time? She already knew that if she didn't see the sun soon a part of her was going to wither. Though a part of her felt like it knew this place, all of her knew she wished to be somewhere else.

"Your cloths won't dry for a while."

Orihime turned around to see Urahara sitting behind her. She hadn't seen him before. He sat on a chair, his legs up on the balcony. In one hand he held a narrow pipe, red smoke curling faintly from the ornate end. His head wasn't turned towards her but Orihime got the distinct impression that he was looking right at her. Lowering her hand from her dress, she turned and walked slowly over to him. As she did, Urahara inhaled from the pipe and exhaled, more of the cherry smoke spiraling from between his lips. Orihime watched as it dissipated into the darkness, leaving only the barest hint of red against the curtain of ebony. She stopped when she stood right next to him. Urahara made no move to say anything to her, seemingly content to smoke in silence.

"Why can't you tell me what's going on?" she asked. He said nothing, "I know that there's a reason--and a good one--or you wouldn't be so careful not to say anything to me."

"You're right," he said finally and Orihime felt her heart soar with the small triumph, "there is a reason."

"Tell me why," she said.

"Why is the reason I can't tell you anything," he said lowering the pipe and looking at her.

"Huh?" she stared at him, confused, "but that makes no sense!"

"What? The fact I can't tell you anything or the fact that I can't tell you why I can't tell you anything?"

"Both!" she cried, "its all terribly confusing," she sighed, leaning back against the rail, "dealing with all of you is wildly frustrating," she said, "no wonder I forgot this place."

"You didn't forget anything," he said after a moment. Orihime's eyes widened as she looked at him. Very calmly he inhaled from the pipe and blew smoke out.

"I didn't forget anything?" she said, "but then, why can't I remember anything?"

"Because your memories are gone," he said simply.

"So," she said, "my memories are gone but I didn't forget anything?" Urahara ducked his head, the closest thing she'd get to a 'yes', "but then--" she frowned, biting her lower lip, "if _I_ didn't forget anything, then someone else _made_ me forget," she looked over at him.

He neither confirmed or denied it. Apparently that question lay on the other side of a line that he didn't want to cross. But from the few, riddle answers she'd gleaned from him that was what he was saying. She didn't remember but it wasn't because _she_ had forgotten. Someone had done something to her. But that made no sense! Who would go into a person's head and steal their memories? Bad people, surely. Especially if they were going around and stealing other people's memories. What could she possibly have done to deserve having her memories ripped away from her? They were _her_ memories, no-one else's. But if they had been taken from her--Orihime's eyes widened.

"There was no car accident," she realized aloud. Urahar's eyes went to her. She looked at him, "but--" she shook her head, "but if there wasn't a car accident--" she looked over her shoulder, her eyes finding Ulquiorra's half-familiar silhouette.

Before she could stop herself she ran back into the house and out onto the platform he stood on. She threw the doors open with such force that the sound was loud--loud enough for him to turn around and fix her with his unnerving emerald stare. Orihime had deal with the fact she was in a strange world, she'd dealt with the fact that she'd been there before--she'd dealt with a lot. But this, this was something she needed answers for, no matter what the rules said she did and did not need. She strode across the space until she stood in front of the green eyed man. His back was to her but Orihime reached out and grabbed his shoulder, jerking him so that he had to turn around regardless of actually wanting to.

"Tell me how I got so badly hurt!" she demanded, "I wasn't in a car accident--what _happened_ to me?!"

"It is not your--"

"Not my _what_?" she demanded furiously, "not my concern? Not my right to know?!" He looked away, "don't you dare tell me that! Do you have any idea what I've been through since that accident--what I lost in that crash?!"

Ulquiorra stared down at her. Tears were bright once again in her eyes but he knew they were furious ones. He did not know what she had lost in the accident, only what she had gained. But she did not see it that way. Not at all. He had thought that she would know what happened, that she would know what had been done to insure that she was _able_ to return. But she did not. He did not want to tell her why she was in such a state, did not know how he could tell her why she had been so hurt without telling her why it was necessary. Because if he did tell her what he could, if he explained the fraction of the story that she could hear, then he knew she would be as far away from him as she could.

And that was something he could not allow.

Not after what had happened in the palace. Not after it became clear that someone wanted her here just as the Shinigami wanted her there. Orihime was once more in the center of a conflict far larger than herself. The figurehead to an ideal, she was the face to a force people fought for--that people _died_ for. But this time she did not understand why. She hadn't really understood last time either but now he knew she truly would not. And, as torturous as being with her was, he knew he could not allow her to roam Hueco Mundo without any sort of protection. It was not vanity that made him certain he was the only one who could protect her, it was experience, it was a fact. He was not going to allow Grimmjow with his divided loyalties or Nel with her fractured mind to protect her--if they even could. Orihime needed to be in his presence until they figure out what was going on.

"You lost much," he said.

"I lost _everything_!" she shouted, "everything I was--everything I knew--everything I used to be! I didn't know how I was supposed act, who I was supposed to care about--I didn't even know my name!" she was openly shouting and beyond the point of caring, "everything I was, it was gone! I don't even know if I'm the same person anymore--"

"You are," he interjected, cutting her off for the first time since they had reunited. She froze at that, "I cannot tell you much," he said, 'but I can tell you that."

"That's not good enough," she said shaking her head angrily, a few tears breaking free even as she swiped a hand angrily across her cheeks to get rid of them, "I--I know something's missing. More than just my memories--stuff came back but not all of it. There's a hole in me. Something's gone! Whoever did this to me, they took it from me! I want it back!" her voice broke, "I want to be whole again!"

Something deep inside of Ulquiorra howled in agony at her words. She knew that something had been stolen from her, now she knew that there was an being that had done that to her. It was another's hands that had performed the act, another who had ripped apart of her away. They had done it because of what she had done. But what she had done, she had done for _him_. The strong, broken creature in front of him was of his making, just as surely as he was of hers. She had brushed the first few tears away but now they slipped down her cheeks in twin rivers. She was not sobbing--he did not think she was even aware of the tears that snaked down her face and if she was she certainly didn't care about them. He remembered before when she had openly sobbed when caught up in emotion. She had cried before she'd slapped him and been in tears after it as well. Now she did not sob, the tears on her cheeks were anger not sadness.

Despite his earlier words, he realized that maybe this was not the same woman who had left.

"You cannot go back to how you were," he said finally, his voice cool and controlled.

"What?" she demanded, her fingers balling by her sides.

"You cannot," he said, "you will not remember who you were, nor will you remember what you lost."

"So what? I'm just supposed to be broken forever--"

"You are not broken," he interrupted her, his voice low and laced with anger.

Through her tear fogged eyes, Orihime stared up at Ulquiorra. Anger shone in his eyes and she'd heard it in his voice--open emotion. But he sounded angry, upset even. And only when she'd said she was different or that she was broken. As if the idea of the fact she knew to be true was somehow offensive to him. As if her speaking badly about herself was painful to hear. But that made no sense. He _hated_ her. She saw it when he kept his face unreadable, when he recoiled from her touch. So why was it so horrible for him to hear that she was hurt? It was true that every time there had been a threat of actual physical harm he'd saved her but--but there had to be a reason for that. A reason that went in line with him hating her. And yet he seemed not to want any kind of harm to come to her. Almost as if he was protecting her.

"I am," she said finally, her voice soft as she looked away.

"Your only injury is your wrist," he said.

"My wrist's fine," she said shaking her head and moving her arms behind her back as if to hide them.

"Let me see your wrist," he said, glad enough not to continue to speak about her being broken to peruse the topic.

"Its fine," she said.

"If you are injured it needs to be seen to," he stated, "I cannot protect you alone."

"I'm fine," she protested as he moved forward, "Ulquiorra--"

His hand found hers. It was the first time he'd touched her without the threat of danger and his senses reeled with it. But he pushed them aside, focusing only on the injury. He grasped the limb in his hands and turned it over, one hand cupping her elbow and the other wrapping around her wrist as he pushed up the sleeve of the robe she wore. Try as she might, she couldn't break his grip. Orihime looked away sharply, closing her eyes at the prospect of what he would see. Ulquiorra said nothing. The only indication that he had witnessed anything was the slight tightening of the fingers that held her elbow. It was not even enough to be painful. Orihime almost wished that it was. Physical pain would, at the very least, distract her from the pain in her heart.

"What is this?" Ulquiorra asked, his voice taking on an odd tone.

Orihime gave no reply. Ulquiorra stared at her forearm. The scars that decorated it were newer than the few he had seen, the ones that could be attributed to her 'accident'. These were precise, they were strait and there were many of them. Some as short as his thumb, some longer. The longest spanned almost the length of her forearm, from just below her palm to the elbow. Some were faded, some were fresher. None were deep enough that they would leave a permanent scar. None save for the longest one. Unable to stop himself, Ulquiorra let go of her elbow and reached out, his finger touching the edge of the longest and permanent scar. Orihime tried to pull away but his grip on her wrist tightened and the pain from the injury made her stop.

"I do not understand--" Ulquiorra began, unwilling to see what the arm in front of him.

"Its nothing," Orihime said averting her eyes.

"You have been hurting yourself," he said.

"Stop," she said trying to pull away, "Ulquiorra--"

"Why?" he questioned looking at her.

"I--" Orihime looked at her marred wrist, "its not anything you need to worry about."

"Why did you try to kill yourself?" he asked, his brow furrowing, "you survived--"

"That's all I did," she said.

"I do not understand."

"I tried to make it stop!" she cried, "i wanted--I wanted the pain to stop. The nightmares, the emptiness--all of it," he continued to stare at her, disbelief written on his features, "so I did."

"You--" he stopped, looking back down at her forearm, unable to look at her wrist for injury, "you were not supposed to be like this."

"Not supposed to be like this?" she demanded, "how do you know what I was supposed to be like?" he said nothing, continuing to look at her wrist, "you said that I was the same person. I'm guessing she wouldn't have done anything 'like this," she ventured finally.

"Yes," Ulquiorra said finally, refusing to fall for the trap she laid, "she would have," he raised his head and looked at her finally, "your friends were your weakness," he forced himself to keep his eyes on hers, "I did not understand that they were your strength as well."

Orihime shook her head, trying to see if she could draw back her wrist but found it once again impossible. Friends. She didn't have friends, not one she really cared about anyway. Six years and when she looked in the mirror all she saw were pieces, not a person. How could she care for anyone when she found it impossible to care for herself? If she'd had friends before whatever happened to her, she didn't remember them anymore than they remembered her. Or if they did it, they didn't care about her anymore. Orihime looked down. Past her scar-marrred wrist was Ulquiorra's hand. His grip was firm but not painful, his skin bone white against her own warm tone. It was strange and yet, yet it seemed almost _right_. As if his hand belonged against her skin.

"Were we friends?" she asked finally.

Were they friends? Ulquiorra could have laughed at the question. She truly had lost everything if she thought that they was even a possibility that the term 'friend' could be applied to whatever had been between them. They were not friends, they never could be. Friends were people that one depended on. They were there to help, to share. Friends were the people who defied everything and came to rescue you, no matter who told them not to do it. Friends were willing to do whatever it took to make sure that you were safety back where you belonged--even if that was not where people thought you should be. They might get you into trouble but they figured out a way to save you from it.

Friends came for you.

Friends saved you.

"No," he said, "we were not friends."

"Oh," she said, not sure why she was disappointed at what he said, "can you--" she looked at his hand.

"No," he said looking back at her hand, "your wrist is sprained. We need to bandage it."

"Until we find bandages," she began. He released her wrist, "thanks," she said bringing it to her chest an cradling it, "maybe Urhara--"

Ulquiorra gave a curt nod, not saying anything. He turned and walked into the house. Orihime followed him inside. He seemed to have some knowledge of the layout as he walked over to one of the side rooms and stepped inside. He was only gone for a moment before he returned with a length of fabric. Orihime carefully extended her hand as he grasped it once more, beginning to wrap the bandages around her wrist. His movements were careful, assured--confident even. He knew what he was doing. His eyes remained trained on her wrist, watching what he was doing but his movements were too natural for it to be the first time he'd done something like this.

"You've done this before, haven't you?" she said. His eyes remained on her wrist, "taken care of a klutz like me before," she elaborated.

"Yes," he said, his emerald eyes raising to meet hers for a fraction of a second before they went back to her wrist.

When it was bandaged to his satisfaction, Ulquiorra released his hold, tying off the makeshift wrapping. Orihime moved her wrist experimentally, not pleased to find the motion was restricted. But it was true that the joint felt better.

"Thank you," she said looking up at him.

Ulquiorra nodded, not saying anything more. Orihime held her wrist close to her chest as he turned around and walked away from her once more. Bowing her head, Orihime closed her eyes and bowed her head. Confusion and shame churned in the pit of her stomach. Confusion she'd become accustom to in her time there. But the shame, the shame was new. And she knew exactly why she felt it swirl unpleasantly through her. It was the look in Ulquiorra's eyes when he saw her, the confused and sad look that had made her want nothing more than for it to go away. She felt as though, somehow, she'd disappointed him. She didn't know why but the idea that she'd done that, that she'd disappointed him, it made her sad. As if hurting him was the last thing in the world that she ever wanted to do.

The worst part was, somehow she knew, it wasn't the first time she'd done it.

* * *

Something woke Orihime from the slumber in which she'd been dwelling.

Urahara had put them in separate rooms for the night and Orihime had never been more grateful for a bed--and for solitude--in her entire life. She'd fallen asleep instantly and, for the life of her, couldn't figure out what had woken her up. It was still dark outside, though she knew it always would be in this place, and she had no watch with which to tell time. The screen doors were illuminated, showing that someone was awake in the main room. The thought of staying in bed crossed her mind but Orihime dismissed it. Swinging her legs off the side of the bed she stood up. Clearly the men in the other room knew things and weren't going to tell her them. So, if she was to learn anything, it had to be by spying. Carefully she stepped forward, keeping her weight on the balls of her feet as she moved as quietly as she could towards the doors.

Reaching out she slid them open a fraction, not enough so they would notice, only enough so she could peer outside into the warmly lit room. In her direct point of view she couldn't see much. The only part of Ulquiorra she could see was from his mid back to the ground. Ulquiorra stood in the center of it, bare from the waist up. His bone white skin painted gold by the light. His back was to her. Before she could look anywhere else she heard the man in front of him move. Urahara came into view, his features tight with something that could have been concern but looked far more like interest. She couldn't see Uquiorra's face but she knew that there would be no emotion on it.

"How--"

"I was elbowed," he said.

"She's really become a fighter huh?" Urahara said, his lips curving into a smile. Ulquiorra gave no reply, "Well, I told you there was a chance this was going to happen," Urahara continued, "that was why I wanted you to return to this place with me."

"No," Ulquiorra said flatly, "can you fix it?"

"Ulquiorra there isn't anything to fix," Ulquiorra exhaled angrily, as though Urahara he was saying was not what he wanted to hear.

"If this continues," he said, "the desert will no longer be an option."

"Well can you still go into your Release form?" Urahara asked.

"I did," Ulquiorra replied, "but with great difficulty."

"That makes sense, its a--"

"It is my power," Ulquiorra cut him off, obviously not feeling the need to be courteous to the man in front of him, "though I preferred it when it was silent."

"He's becoming more vocal then?" Urahara asked, "that makes sense, given what's happened--"

"Is there a way to reverse it?" Ulquiorra questioned.

"Reverse it? Ulquiorra I couldn't reverse what's happening to you anymore than Inoue could get what they stole back. Its not something that can just be reversed."

Orihime's fingers tightened on the door. What were they talking about? Stolen memories she got--as much as she could given what was going on. But what was happening to Ulquiorra? Why was he so upset about what was going on? Why was his power talking to him? Her head was spinning with all the new words that they were saying. But she felt as though she _should_ know them. They were there, right out of reach. Ignoring the ache she felt behind her eyes she continued to peer through the crack in the door. Her eyes moved from the two silent men standing there to the chair next to them. On it she saw Ulquiorra's jacket but it seemed to be thrown over something. Something that looked oddly familiar. She saw his hand move out and pick up the jacket, revealing the object underneath.

It was his helmet.

Orihime gasped, her grip on the door loosening. It was a well oiled door and before she could stop it it slid back on its tract and she tumbled forward, her wrists instinctively streaking out to catch her fall. She gasped as her sprained wrist flared with pain. She squeezed her eyes shut, her breath coming in sharp pants as she tried to fight the urge to cry out. Tentatively she opened her eyes, looking at the wood of the floor. Slowly she pushed herself to her feet, trying to gather her frayed wits before she raised her eyes to look at the two men who looked at her. Urahara returned her gaze with a mixture of amusement and pride in his eyes, looking pleased that she was sneaking around and spying on people. It took her a moment to gather herself enough to look at Ulquiorra.

He looked shocked that she had done what she had and, for the first time, she could see why. There was no hole in his chest, nothing to like the gaping one in Grimmjows. And the remnants of his skull, the helmet, they lay on the chair obviously not attached to him like Nel's had been. Without the confines of his helmet, his hair was even messier, half falling into his emerald eyes. Her eyes dragged further down his chest, to the spot where she had elbowed him. She felt her eyes widen as she stared, uncomprehending at what was in front of her. She might not have known anything about the strange creatures that roamed this place but she knew what she saw was _wrong_.

Missing from the center of his abdomen was a piece of the white that covered the rest of him. Fractures splayed out from the central crack. Some short as a finger, one long enough that it almost reached his side. Whatever encased him, it was breaking apart. She could have made analogies to a cocoon and a butterfly or an egg and a chick but this was too dark and too sinister a place for such things. What drew her eyes was not the cracks, nor the missing piece. No, what she looked at was what was revealed by it. What lay under the shell, it wasn't darkness or nothingness like she'd expected.

It was skin.

* * *

**Cookies to everyone who got the hints on what was sorta happening with Ulquiorra! Some of you were seriously close and I promise its gonna be clearer. **

**Now the parts your confused about (and have been confused about) you're SUPPOSED to be confused. This is a kind of mystery. Especially in the first chapters. I promise more and more is gonna come to light. And as it does, well, its gonna be a fun ride.**

**We are going to revisit Orihime's suicide attempt and find out more about what really drove her to do it. Let's just say she's not telling the whole story. Also Ulqui's got a whole slew of problems to deal with that are coming from his, *ahem* situation. Especially that 'talkative' thing. Lets just say Ulqui's spirt and its reflection in his weapon aren't the quietest--or nicest--in the world. **

**Now for those not used to my writing style who are just joining us for this fic *waves*, its time for a hiatus. I'll try to get one more chapter out but don't hold your breath. This is because I travel a lot. Seriously, a lot. I won the Continent Game (you go to all 7 continents...YES that includes Antarctica). This past summer I was rocking Study Abroad in India. **

**Well its winter break and I am off to Anguilla to do the thing I couldn't this summer: Dive. Yes people, its time to SCUBA my face off. I am so pumped its not even funny. Most of my many dives are in the Caribbean so I'm excited to go back. **

**So expect updates in 2010 and have a Happy Holiday!**


	8. Gyroscope lTea Partyl

A warm glow ushered Orihime Inoue back to consciousness.

She was laying in a bed that, though soft, wasn't completely soft enough to keep her from feeling an odd pain in her shoulder, as if she's struck it against something. The glow was courtesy of the lamp lit beside her bed. The entire room was bathed in it, including the man who stood by the window. It took Orihime's foggy mind a moment to recognize him as Ulquiorra. He was fully clothed once more, his jacket done up to his throat. But she knew what lay underneath. In the golden glow of the lamp, without the bone of his helmet he looked almost human--certainly more human than she was used to seeing him. Carefully she went to push herself up into a sitting position.

"Do not move."

Orihime froze as Ulquiorra slowly looked over at her. His emerald eyes locked with hers. Shadows played across his face, hiding the tear marks that feel from his eyes as the light lent its humanizing glow to him. Standing there he looked tall and protective, things she had become accustom to seeing him as. But he looked so human, his eyes so vivid that for the first time it struck Orihime that he was actually quite handsome. Perhaps it had been the obvious physical things that had kept her from thinking of him as such but laying there with him standing there, she realized that he did not look much older than her. He'd certainly be considered handsome--if he wasn't bone white and permanently looking as though he was crying. But with his shaggy black hair falling into his emerald eyes, he was certainly not as scary as he had been.

"What's going on?" Orihime asked quietly.

"You--"

"I mean with you," she cut in, shifting her weight and pushing herself into a sitting position, "what's going on with _you_."

"That is not important," he said, his eyes leaving hers.

The world swayed nauseatingly. Orihime's fingers tightened in the fabric of the blankets pooled around her waist. The pain in her shoulder flared as well, a sharp throb that she knew meant she'd struck it. But when? The last thing she had remembered seeing was the pale skin laid bare by the fractured white surrounding it. She had seen it and the wrongness of the situation was more than she could stand.

For lack of a better word or description, it was simply wrong. Everything she had dealt with to that point held an odd sort of familiarity to it. Grimmjow, the desert--even the men in front of her. The rational part of her mind told her that he had not been to this place, that she had no met these people but something deeper told her that she had. That there was no need to be afraid of the maniacal bones on Grimmjow's face or the strange childlike words that tumbled from Nel's lips. even Ulquiorra's cold behavior and Urahara's riddles did not make her feel truly afraid. But that, the skin that shone pale and real, surrounded by the bone white of what she had assumed to be his skin, _that_ made her heart tighten. That made her palms sweat. That sent a jolt of fear coursing through her very core. Something was wrong with it, with the sight of skin surrounded by whatever it was, wrong enough that even the part of her that seemed to have forgotten everything, even that understood how it did not belong.

She couldn't remember anything past that.

Fighting back the desire to throw up or lay back down, Orhime stubbornly pushed herself to her feet. Ulquiorra made no move to help her or even really to look at her as he stood by the window, looking out on the black landscape. Her knees felt weak, her mouth felt dry. Orihime had had panic attacks before, she knew what it felt like to have the world ripped away by blind adrenaline. But she also knew what the aftermath of those felt like and this, this was not that. Not completely. She felt weak, shaky even but to a degree she hadn't ever felt before. And she could not remember anything past seeing Ulquiorra standing there with the break in his skin. Apparently she had not remembered before but now, now she was aware of it.

And somehow the knowledge that she had lost something was much _much_ worse.

She knew she had lost something, that she had forgotten something. The throb of her shoulder, the paper of her mouth--none of it was as bad as the pain she felt inside. What had she forgotten? What had she lost? Desperately she looked out the window at the night covered landscape. If shed been back home, if she'd been _anywhere_ else, would the sky be different? How long had she been out for? Her eyes found Ulquiorra, his back still towards her. Her stomach coiled tightly. Had she forgotten something about _him_? Was he the reason that she did not remember what happened? Forcing her foot forward, Orihime stepped towards him. He did not move despite her first step closing the distance between them.

"Why are you breaking?" she asked.

This time though she did not look at his face, not that she even had the option. This time she looked elsewhere. The hand that laid on the window, just in the range of her view tightened against the frame. His already strait posture became sharper, as if some invisible string had pulled him taut. He hid his emotions very well, Orihime gave him that, but the physical things , those showed. If Oirhime had to guess she would say he wasn't aware he did them or she was sure he would have trained himself not to do them. But the simple things, the tightening of his grip, the drawing of his shoulder blades--those things he did not know about. And those were the things that showed Orihime just how agitated he really was. Had he been showing all these signs and she been missing them? For some reason, the thought that there was a way to read him and she had not figured it out was troubling.

"That's what you're doing right--"

"What is happening to me is an inconvenience, nothing more."

His voice was cool, stoic even and he certainly offered no elaboration on what was happening to him. Orihie did not know much about the strange people--if they were people--who inhabited the equally strange world she had been thrust into. But she was fairly certain that none of them were fracturing like Ulquiorra was. Describing it as an inconvenience was seriously downplaying whatever was going on. He had clearly taken great pains to hide what was happening to him. If she hadn't been spying Orihime was sure she wouldn't have seen it at all. And she supposed she could see the sense in not telling anyone what was happening, but he clearly trusted Urahara enough to tell _him_ what was happening--even if it was clear that Ulquorra disliked Urahara far more than he actually liked him.

"I don't believe you," Orihime said softly, looking down at the ground before raising her eyes slowly to his back, "but I am sorry," she raised her voice, "I think I must have broken your--" she trailed off, not sure what to call the bone white she had assumed was skin, "well I'm sorry."

"It is not important," he said finally, his voice still perfectly cool as he turned to face her.

Without the helmet his hair was a bit longer, free of whatever confinement it had given. It was messy too, the coal black strands brushing his cheeks and a few even laying over his nose. For some reason the messiness of his hair was almost endearing. He seemed to uptight, so strait and controlled that the idea his hair disobeyed him made Orihime almost feel like smiling. Not quite, but almost. Her eyes caste about the room, looking to see if there was any kind of water pitcher but her eyes found none.

"Is there any water here?" she asked looking at Ulquiorra.

"You are thirsty?" he questioned, his voice making her think that thirst wasn't a common thing around here.

"Yes," she said, "and maybe I'm hungry too," she placed a hand on her stomach, "I can't tell," she gave a weak laugh, "I don't think I've even eaten since I've been here!"

Ulquiorra turned away.

She had not eaten and she was wondering about why she wasn't hungry. The last time she had been there it had taken everything for him to make sure she ate rather than just tying her down and starting an IV. She had to eat because of her power. Even the Espada back then had required additional sustenance, especially when they went to the transient world. Their power had been great, too great to be sustained by Spirit particles, even the heightened ones. She had been the same, though the amount of food she had consumed was more for precaution than necessity, but her power had been great enough for Aizen to feel it was necessary. Now she had gone days without a morsel and she was fine.

But to be fair, so was he.

Both shadows of what they should have been. Both fractured in more ways than they could have known when she had followed him what seemed like a lifetime ago. He had been put in charge of her because he was able to remove himself from her. Aizen had said he had shown his merit in his interactions with the others. He never fell for their petty squabbles, never partook in their inane power struggles. Aizen had assumed that he would continue to remove himself from the situation at hand. That he would not be affected by her as easily as the other Espada would be. After all there had been no telling what would happen when she was brought into the strange and deadened world they lived in.

What having a reminder of what they once were would do to them.

After all, they had all once been human. though he doubted Grimmjow had ever been innocent or Yammy had been quiet, they had all once been like her. Young, hopeful, alive. But now--what they had been was strong. Strong, powerful and, if they had thought about it, damned. They would never know peace, nor release from their burdens. They were condemned to Hueco Mundo, to a world of eternal night and endless desert. Mindlessly wandering, hunting and killing was fine if that was the only thing one knew but Aizen had given them the gift of consciousness, of knowing what the did. Her presence there had been a sharp reminder of what they had become--of what they had once been. He had not expected to be affected by her presence, none of them had. But affecting them had been a talent of hers. Grimmjow's defiance, his hotheadedness had all increased with her presence there as he lashed out like a child while Ulquiorra found himself struggling to withdraw further from the daily life lest he loose himself in the petty power struggles of the other Espada. She accused him of breaking without even realizing that he was not breaking: he was broken.

"You are not hungry," he said.

"No," she agreed, "I'm not. But I am thirsty."

Ulquiorra said nothing in reply to that. either he did not believe that she was thirsty or he believed her and just wasn't going to do anything about it. Orihime shifted on the balls of her feet, her eyes moving from him to the doors. She couldn't see anyone moving inside. But she couldn't see anyone moving inside, though a part of her wished that Urahara was in there. She'd take his riddles over Ulquiorra's stoic silence. At least when dealing with him, he talked and fairly consistently as well. Only Ulquiorra seemed perfectly content to be silent.

"Is there any water?" she asked finally when it became clear that he was not going to reply.

"I do not know," he said.

"I'll go ask Urahara," she said turning around and heading for the door.

She stepped into the main room of the cabin. It was still warmly lit but the lights had been dimmed, in some semblance of nighttime. The chair with his helmet was gone, the main room deserted. Orihime frowned as she stepped further into it. It was comforting to see the darkness, some kind of change in light even if the outside remained pitch black. Carefully Orihime made her way further into the room, her eyes casting about for some kind of thing that looked as if it would give her water. But nothing was sticking out at her. Orihime's feet paused as she turned towards one of the windows, looking out at the blackness. She almost missed the strange moon she had seen in the desert. At least that had given some kind of light. here she could see nothing but the trees reaching up through the eternal blackness.

She missed the sun.

The feeling struck her as she crossed her arms over her chest to ward the chill she felt spike through her. She had not thought about the sun or really about anything she had left behind. Would her old apartment still be in once piece after the strange apparitions who had come were left alone there? They had been after her, not after something she possessed. She did not own anything of value, nothing that she could see the sense in killing or kidnapping to gain anyway. But why was _she_ of value to anyone? She wasn't particularly special. She had a job and a life and even a few friends who were probably wondering where she was but she didn't know what would drive someone to try and kidnap her. Ulquiorra had said she was a pawn and she had rejected that claim--more to object to _his_ idea than any certainty she had on the matter herself.

Closing her eyes Orihime tried to remember why she had been so adamant that she stay in this place. She felt tired, tired and weak and overwhelmed with the desire to just go _home_. She did not belong in this place. She belonged back in the land of the living with her simple life, not here with whatever chaos ruled this place. Urahara had said that he knew her and Ulquiorra clearly did as well but what did it matter? She could shout and kick and scream and they still would not tell her anything. Whatever higher being had made the rules of this sick game did not like her--or them. If Orihime was a pawn then she knew that was what Ulquiorra and Urahara were as well. They were pieces, moved on a board by some higher power playing a game. A part of her said she should fight it. The larger part said that she should just go home and forget about it.

"If I asked you to take me home," Orihime began, knowing Ulquiorra was behind her, "would you?"

"No."

Orihime closed her eyes at his flat denial. He had wanted to get her out of there and she had been so stuck on the idea that she could find the missing piece that she hadn't listened to him. Maybe he had been right, maybe she should have left the moment she got back. Her throat tight, Orihime turned her head to look at him. Without the glow of the lights he was as cool and stoic as ever, his features suddenly anything but human. Only his eyes remained unchanged. Emerald and sharp as a perfectly cut stone, they watched her with the keenness of the hardest of predators.

"Why not?" Orihime asked, not knowing what he would say.

"It is not safe for you there," he said.

"But--" she began, "I'm sure they're gone by now--"

"It is not simply the threat posed by the Shinigami," he said and, had he not been so in control she knew his eyes would have gone to her wrist.

"That's not your concern," she said, resisting the urge to cover the skin with her hand even though the bandages covered it perfectly on their own, "I don't know why you're so concerned with my safety," she shook her head before looking at him, "I've been managing without you just fine. As soon as I'm back to wherever i was, I'll be fine too."

"Managing," he repeated.

"Yes," she said. He did not look as though he believed her and Orihime felt anger prick at her, "and besides, you're hiding out in the desert."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed as the truth of what she had just said hit Orihime.

"You're hiding out," she repeated, taking a step towards him, "what are _you_ hiding from? You can fly--you can fight--" she caste her eyes over his form, "why are you hiding out? Is it because of what's happening to you?"

He was silent and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her that eh couldn't tell her, that this part of whatever game that they were playing and telling her would be effectively breaking the rules. It was not until she heard him exhale and take a step forward that she realized he was going to speak. She did not look him in the eye, his gaze was elsewhere and she did not want to scare him off.

"There is a war," he said, "here. Now. There was a man here, someone who brought those who lived here under his rule. He is--" he stopped before continuing, "he is gone. Those who remain have turned on each other. They fight over nothing, they fight for the joy of fighting, because its what they know. I am tired of fighting so mindlessly. But I am not hiding out. I am protecting what was left of the place we called our home."

"So the sand and all, that was to protect that stuff?" Ulquiorra nodded, "but who are you protecting it _for_?"

"My orders are to protect," he said, "protect the palace. I cannot protect that, it is mostly gone. I can only protect what remains, what was salvaged."

"But why are you following those orders?" she questioned, "I thought you said the man who did all of that was dead."

"Gone," Ulquiorra replied, "I follow them because they are my orders," he said, confusion flitting across his eyes.

"But no-one's there to make sure you do them," she said, "why are you still protecting that stuff?"

"It is what I was ordered to do," he repeated.

"I know," Orihime said, realizing they were going around in circles, "but don't you want to leave? To do something else?"

"There is nothing else to do," he said.

"Of course there is," Orihime said, "there has to be _something_ out there in the desert--"

"There is more desert," Ulquiorra said, "it is endless. If i were to leave, I would be joining the fight for one side or another," he looked away, obviously frustrated, "it is only a matter of time before the battle reaches me. I want that time to be as long as possible."

"Does Grimmjow fight in it? Or Nel?"

"Nel does not," Ulquiorra said, "Grimmjow seems to be having a hard time deciding which side he'd like to be on. Whichever gives him the opportunity for more violence," he said dismissively, "but the fight will take this place over."

"Will it destroy it?" Orihime asked.

"No," Ulquiorra said, "as long as there are people, this place will endure."

Orihime frowned, puzzling over what he had just said.

"There don't seem to be a lot of _people_ here," she said, "and you, you don't look human."

"I am not."

"But--" she frowned, "but you've got to be human. I mean where am I? The moon?"

Ulquiorra stared at her, wondering how he was possibly supposed to explain where she was. Before she had known what Hueco Mundo was, what a Hollow was. She had had firsthand experience. Now she had no idea. What would happen if he told her where she was? That she was in the place of the dead? That _he_ was dead? Across the room, she shifted agitatedly on the balls of her feet, her eyes moving around as if they could figure out what was happening just by looking around.

"You are in the eternal desert of Hueco Mundo," he said finally. Her violet grey eyes locked with his.

"How eternal?"

"Eternal," he said.

"And people come here?" she questioned.

"No," Ulquiorra said, "people do not come to Hueco Mundo. They are brought. Usually they are consumed."

"Consumed by what?" Orihime demanded, her voice edged in fear.

"By Hollows," he said, "searching for souls to consume that will keep them alive and allow their power to grow."

"The people here, they're--" she inhaled sharply, her mind racing, "they're not _alive_?"

"No," Ulquiorra said, "they are not."

"So then they're dead--_you're_ dead?!" one of her hands grabbed the fabric that covered her chest, fumbling for something to hold onto, "no," she shook her head, "whatever you are--you can't be dead."

"I am," he said, "as is Urahara and everyone else you have encountered."

"Including those people, in the black robes?" he nodded, "oh my God," Orihime closed her eyes, "they're dead--" she looked at him, "am I dead then?"

"No," Ulquiorra said, his voice low and sharp, leaving no room for argument, "you are simply here, you are not dead."

"But how--how are you--" she gasped for air, "how are you talking to me if you're dead. Were you eaten by those things? By those Hollows?"

"I am a Hollow," he said, "an advanced one but a Hollow none the less. I have consumed souls for power--"

"Stop it!" she said, her hands pressing against her ears as she shook her head desperately, unwilling to hear him speak about the monstrous actions he had done, though he had not told her of the deeds that had disgusted her even when she knew everything he was, "I don't understand this! How are you all dead and running around here--and up there! Back home, those people--they just came into my house tried to kidnap me! Are there just dead people running all around the world?!"

"Of course not!" Urahara said flippantly, moving into the room, "it would get very crowded up there, don't you think?" Orihime looked at him, opening her mouth but the scientist was in front of her before she could say anything. Two fingers on her forehead and a whispered spell later, Orihime fell unconscious into his arms, "well that was unpleasant," Urahara said.

"That was unnecessary," Ulquiorra said looking from her to him, "it is the second time she has been placed under the effects of _kido_ in a short period of time--"

"She'll be fine," Urahara said, "this exposure to Spiritual Power is necessary."

"It is not," Ulquiorra rejected flatly as Urahara picked Orihime up easily and walked back into the room, settling her on the bed, "she does not need to be exposed to any Spiritual Power."

"Ulquiorra," Urahara turned around and faced him, "her ability to process Spiritual Power has been completely shut down. The Spirit Particles here are helping but they are not doing enough. If she is ever to regain her powers--"

"She does not need her powers," Ulquiorra said firmly.

Urahara let out a breath, wondering if Ulquiorra had been very young when he died. Sometimes dealing with him was like dealing with an adult, but at times it was like dealing with a stubborn child. One look at his face and Urahara knew he could drop every paper ever written about Spiritual Power in front of the ex-Espada and he would still flat out deny that Orihime would require her powers. But his stubbornness would do no good, not in this situation. Looking down at the girl on the bed, he looked back at Ulquiorra before crossing the room to the doorway.

"She was brought here because of what she can do--what she has the ability to do and we both know it," the scientist said, letting the flippant tone he used drop, "your powers are in a dangerous state of fluctuation right now. I'm amazed you were able to get to any release. The only way for her to be protected is if she is able to protect herself. You cannot ensure her safety, not now."

"I am capable of fighting," Ulquiorra said.

"I know that," Urahara said, "but every battle you engage in, every fight you participate in, all of it is going to expose you to more Spiritual Power and that is going to quicken the process."

Ulquiorra looked away. Quickening the process was not something he wanted to happen. He wanted the process to cease, not to speed up. But every battle he fought protected Orihime. He owed her that protection. If nothing else he owed her that. As much as it pained him to admit it, Urahara had a point. The physical manifestations of what was happening to him, the lack of external skeleton fragments, the breaking of his _hierrero_, all of it was secondary. His power had begun to fluctuate long before that and it continued to degrade. He did not need it, most of the time. Those who dared to come to the place he guarded were easily dispatched, his reputation far more effective than brute force would be. But if he were to truly fight--Ulquiorra could not say with certainty he would even be able to beat Grimmjow now.

His eyes were drawn to Orihime, to the cascade of sunset hair that had seemed so stark and bright in the monochrome world of Las Noches. Here in Urahara's odd patchwork house the bright color did not seem so out of place. But he found his eyes going to it none the less. The sunset color made him think. How much longer did she have here until the brightness in her soul went out? The last time--the last time she had been different. _Very_ different. But this place would destroy her, just as it had the last time. It would take her, every last fiber of good that was in her, and it would warp and twist it until nothing was left behind. Until even an Espada looked as though he was worth saving.

"I will not abandon her," Ulquiorra heard himself say.

"And she can't go back home?" Urahara asked.

"No," Ulquiorra said, his mind flashing to the injuries on her wrist, "it is not safe for her there."

"Alright," Urahara said finally, his voice laced with weariness, "hopefully your power is going to convert fully soon--full enough that you'll have some more access to it. But until then you should both stay here. Its not safe for you out there. I need to get some sleep--so should you--but we'll have to start fighting. I can use enough Spiritual Power to affect you, hopefully without attracting the attention of anyone in this place."

Ulquiorra said nothing as Urahara departed.

What was there to say? Orihime continued to break the rules of the strange game they were playing. The last time Urahara had made her unconscious after she descended into some kind of attack that left her on the floor, gasping for air. This time they had done nothing to bring it on, but Urahara had put her to sleep anyway. Ulquiorra did not like what was happening. They were all pawns now and the worst part of it was that they knew it. It was much easier when being a pawn was all you knew. Better not to know than to know and be helpless to change your fate. His fate was sealed, perhaps Urahara's was as well. But they both owed Orihime more than they could say. If her fate was able to be changed then they had to do everything in their power to make sure she came out of this in one piece. If that meant changing then that was what it meant.

Even if what she had done had cost them everything.

* * *

**Okay so next chapter's going to have a bit more action and a bit more explanation.**

**Please review! You guys were so awesome last chapter. Keep up the great work and i'll keep up the writing!  
**

**So review! **


	9. Medicate

**And we're back! Sorry for the delay but my Uryuu/Tatsuki stories took over. One's wrapped up and the other's just gotten under way. Yeah its a crazy cracky couple. **

**I'm bumbed about the latest Bleach chapters too but hey, lets hope that soon we go back to the DOME!!**

**Also this story has been nominated over at the UFO awards so a big thanks to whoever did that. Now in order to be fully submitted it needs to be seconded. So if you're enjoying the story please second the nomination here:**

**http:// www . dotmoon . net / awards / awards_ nominees . php**

**(remove spaces from the address or just google the UFO awards)**

**In the meantime back to the story. **

* * *

The sound of feet woke Ulquiorra.

Eyes snapping open in the blackness consciousness returned to him very quickly. Sleeping was a new and unpleasant development but it seemed that the survival instinct overrode even the more hindering effects of what was happening to him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the flickering of the candles Urahara kept in the room out of some strange desire to feel as if he was in a place where the sun shone and normalcy ruled. He could not see the shadows but he was sure that he had heard feet on the ground. He knew it was denial that had him sleeping fully clothed, hiding the evidence of what was happening to him. Denial and, perhaps, necessity as well. He was not foolish enough to think that he--or any person really--was skilled enough to survive in the desert of Hueco Mundo. Not ever but certainly not now. Not with things as they were.

Moving into a crouched position, Ulquiorra eased his weight forward and took it on the balls of his feet. Silently he shifted until he stood fully upright. In the darkness his eyes easily located the wrapped Zanpakuto. For a moment he considered leaving it inside. A practiced eye would know that there was something wrong with it, they would see a physical proof that he was drastically different. But even as he toyed with the idea he realized that the half helmet was gone and he had no idea where it was. No matter what happened he was going to be showing the physical symptoms. With no other choice he grabbed the wrapped bundle and tugged off the cloth with equal silence to reveal what lay underneath. It was strange to think that it was only a short while ago when he had held a sword in his hand.

Not anymore.

Now it was a staff, longer than his Zanpakuto had been and growing slowly but steadily. A physical manifestation of what was happening to him. He knew that Shinigami had blades, Arrancar and Vizards as well. Perhaps Murcielago would change as well one day, back to a sword, but he sincerely doubted it. Now as he held the smooth ebony of the staff in his hand, he realized that for the first time he might need to use it. Disgust churned through him. There was time when no matter the opponent he would not go into the fight with his weapon drawn. But not now, now he had to be prepared. The weakness the need to go into battle with a weapon at hand showed him made him sick. Sick and angry and sure of the fact that if he could he would like to destroy someone during this fight. Staff in hand, he turned and walked over to the door, sliding it back just enough to see who his adversaries were.

His green eyes locked with a pair of vacant hazel ones.

"Hello!"

Involuntarily Ulquiorra took a step back as Nel slid the doors open completely, pressing her hands to either frame and spreading her legs in a wider stance, her slim figure taking up the entirety of the space. The grin on her face was unnaturally bright, contrasted sharply with the vacant look in her eyes. Even in her adult form Nel had been one of the happier of the Arrancar and though her eyes had always shown with amusement and joy, there was nothing of that in them now. Oh there was emotion, to be sure, but it was the emotion of a child. She felt but there was no comprehension as to why she felt the way she did. Her helmet had chipped further, allowing more of her blue green hair to spill across her features and half hide the large scar that cut across her face. Her eyes darted across him before landing on the staff.

"Oooo," she looked at it intently, leaning forward while maintaining her grip on the doors, "what's that?"

"It is nothing," Ulquiorra said moving the staff to the side. Nel's hands left the door and instantly fastened around the staff, "Nel--"

It was too late.

The resounding burst of power was enough to send agony through his ears and knock them both clear off their feet. Nel fell against the floor of the room and Ulquiorra slammed into the nearby wall. Despite his ears roaring with agony, Ulquiorra both heard and felt the splintering crack as his back hit the wood Urahara had plated the house with. Air knocked out of his lungs, Ulquiorra dropped to his knees, hands flying out and catching his fall. He raised his head to see the black staff on the floor and past that the form of Nel. She was sitting up, her legs sprawled and her hands in her lap, looking around the room with a with a dazed look on her face, her eyes even more vacant than usual. His eyes went back to the staff laying in the center of the floor. Violent, temperamental--Ulquiorra had many choice words for the spirit that inhabited the staff on the floor, none of them even remotely positive.

"What's going on?! Nel?!"

Ulquiorra's eyes jerked up instantly to see Orihime standing there, still barefoot and her hair mussed from the _kido_ induced sleep. She crossed the room very quickly as Nel's head turned towards her, her eyes remaining as vacant as always as she smiled up at Orihime, clearly not comprehending what was going on. She only looked over when Orihime was close enough to enter her spectrum of vision. Then she turned towards Orihime with the same bright, vacant smile she had flashed towards everyone else. Clearly she had done so with Orihime before, for the young woman found nothing out of sorts with the vacant look in her eyes. Quickly the young woman crouched beside Nel.

"Are you alright?!" she asked frantically.

Almost spellbound, Ulquiorra watched her. It was like he was looking, not across space but across time. The woman kneeling beside Nel was not the dark, broken creature that he had been dealing with. This was the Orihime of old, before Las Noches and Aizen--before him. There was not struggle or hesitance in her concern, no attempt to hide what she was feeling. Her emotions were stark on her face, obvious even to a person who would not have known how to read her. They were still in Urahara's strange home, still in the middle of a conflict more chaotic and twisted than any they had faced and yet in that moment she looked like the woman he remembered. The one who had defied the will of the Gods, for much _much_ longer than he would have thought possible. It was like he was looking at a memory, brought to life.

A few days ago and Ulquiorra would have thought that was impossible.

He was old and he did have memories, most of which he would like to forget but a few he did not mind so much having. But Ulquiorra ahd known that they were just that: memories. They could not be brought back, no more than the dead could come to life as they were before their deaths. He had watched the person that Orihime Inoue had become, certain that the woman he had known was nothing more than another memory, existing only in the recesses of his mind. But now, in that moment, that memory was living and breathing and standing just in front of him. He was paralyzed. Not just by the damage he could feel but by the sight of something more unbelievable and impossible than any he could have imagined. He was afraid to move, afraid to breath even--for fear of what would happen when he looked away.

As if sensing his gaze on her, her eyes rose and locked with his.

His fingers tightened against the wood of the floor, bracing herself for the coldness to be in her eyes. But it was not there. Her grey eyes were open to him, the emotions reflected on her face echoed in her gaze. They were not the eyes of the woman who did not remember him, who only knew that something had been taken away from her but not what that something was. No, they were the eyes of a woman who had not yet understood what kind of cruelty the darker parts of the world held. They were the eyes of the woman who had sacrificed everything to save them--to save him--only to be deemed too much of a potential threat to Soul Society to be allowed to remain as she was.

Abruptly agony sliced across his stomach and back.

His arms buckled, his elbows hitting the ground as a sound came out of his mouth, but with the damage his ears had suffered he had no idea if it was low or if he had screamed at the top of his lungs. His head pressed against his forearms as the pain rolled through him. It was white hot and blinding, like someone was trying to physically break him apart. He tried desperately to inhale but every breath was worse. It was like his chest was constrained. He could feel the pain pulsing centrally in his back and his stomach, where his _hierero _had been literally broken. The pain sharpened, lacing up his back as if the rest of him was suddenly being broken as well. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe--he couldn't do anything except fight to remain conscious while, at the same time praying that he would loose unconsciousness.

"Ulquiorra--Ulquiorra!"

Orihime jumped to her feet and but found herself unable to run over to where the bone pale man was on his knees and forearms rigid with agony. She had woken up after hearing the strange noise only to find Nel and Ulquiorra sprawled on the ground. One moment he'd been fine and the next he was doubled over in agony, the sound torn from his mouth somehow both inhuman and chillingly human at the same time. Something was happening to him, something she had no idea how to deal with. Her mind immediately jumped to the fractured white skin, to the normal skin she'd glimpsed underneath it. Before she could think more about it, he began to gasp for air but the wheezing made it sound like he couldn't breathe, not like he was trying to. Orihime sucked in her breath, feeling like the air had left the room as well. She turned her head to call for Urahara--hoping against hope that the blond man would know what to do but the moment she opened her mouth she realized something terrible.

She couldn't breathe either.

Eyes widening, Orihime tried to take in a deep breath and found it was impossible. She couldn't do it. Her hands flew to her chest and throat, her fingers desperately searching out the reason she could not inhale properly but coming up with nothing. Nel sat uselessly beside her, her eyes still vacant as if she couldn't hear what was going on. Spots began to prick at Orihime's vision as she felt her knees weaken. Desperately she pressed herself against the wall, bracing her hands on her knees and trying to slow her panic but the shallow breaths were not helping. She was in trouble, real and true trouble with no way to figure out how to fix it. She couldn't shout for Urahara, couldn't do anything. Her eyes moved desperately around the room before they landed on Ulquiorra. Still on his knees, still supported by his forearms--he was struggling for air as well. Her eyes landed on the only weapon she could see, the staff on the ground between them. There wasn't anything to say this would work, that the crazy plan forming hazily in her jumbled, frantic, oxygen deprived mind was going to do anything. It was crazy.

But the idea of dying there struggling for air was a far crazier one.

Shoving herself off the wall, Orihime grabbed the staff and shoved herself up to her feet, though the action caused her vision to darken. Staggering over to Ulquiorra, she fought to look past the darkness and see his back. She could see the looseness in the fabric in a specific, focused part of his lower back. The rest of him was encased in the bone white. Praying she was not about to condemn them both, Orihime lifted the staff as high as she could over her head. The sounds that came from his lips were getting softer as she felt her own vision darken further, her grip on the staff becoming much weaker. There wasn't any time to think, no time to consider, all she could do was act.

As hard as she could, Orihime brought the staff down across Ulquiorra's upper back.

There was a sickening crack as the staff hit home. The second it did the tightness in her chest eased. Lungs working on pure instinct, she gasped for air and found it flooded her lungs. Her knees buckled as she dropped to the ground, coughing desperately as her lungs tried to get a normal breathing rhythm back. Beside her she heard Ulquiorra cough as well, but he made no move to push himself up. Tears pricked at her eyes as she sat there gasping for air. Breathing was all she could do, even as fear pulsed through her. Whatever had just happened, whatever was going on--now it was scary. She didn't understand it and a large part of her didn't want to. She wanted to get out of there, as fast as she could. Whatever answers could be here, she didn't want to find them if they cost her her life. Not like this, not after what had just happened.

But it hadn't happened to her, not really.

As her breathing became steadier she looked over at Ulquiorra. He was still doubled over, his hands in front of him but his face hidden both by his hair and his arms. He wasn't making any move to get up but from the gasping, she could tell that he was breathing easily. Just as she was. The back of her hand was still pressed to her mouth as she stared at him. If he felt her eyes on him though, he made no move to try and look at her. Orihime looked at him, realizing that it was odd he was not trying to look at her. Even when he had acted as if her touch had caused him physical pain, he had always looked at her. Admittedly, at times, it had been the kind of look where he spent most of his time trying not to let her know he was looking but he always had been. Now though he was not. His head was bowed and his hands were on the wood, his face hidden from her eyes. and Orihime felt worry course through her.

"U-Ulquiorra?" she spoke, her voice weak and tentative as she lowered her hand, "Ulquiorra?" she tried again, her voice a bit stronger.

"Uh oh," Nel spoke for the first time, "don't touch him or he'll break like a dropped tea pot," the grin that showed on her face was a vacant, a child's grin. Like a child delivering a death sentence, "white marble, white dust--it'll go everywhere and you won't be able to pick up all the pieces."

"I--" Orihime began, looking at Ulquiorra.

_"Follow your feet! They remember the way!"_

Orihime's head snapped back towards Nel as the woman's words came back to her. Follow, remember--Nel had not been giving her directions she had been telling her that she had been there before. Orihime glanced upwards. She was quite certain that she had not been in this house before--or maybe she had, she wasn't sure. She only knew that most of the place she had been she had gone because Ulquiorra had brought her there. He had said that she had ben there before and both Urahara and Grimmjow had echoed that. But Nel, Nel had told her as well and she had not realized it. But did that mean she knew everyone in this strange place? The idea was strange, to be sure, but not as strange as half the things that had happened to her in the past few--however long she had been there. Moving onto her hands and knees, Orihime focused herself on Ulquiorra. If she touched him was he really going to shatter? But he did not seem like he was going to move on his own.

"What happened?"

The sharp inquiry was jarring, especially when Orihime turned and saw it came from Urahara. She quickly realized shouting for his help would have been pointless. He was dressed in the threadbare cloths she was used to seeing him in but now they were stained with sand. But what caught her eye was the long tear across the fabric, edged with dark red. His skin was unbroken but Orihime had no doubt the blood was his. His eyes moved across the room as he took in the sight of what was happening. There was none of the carefreeness she was used to seeing in his gaze. He looked cold, calculating and cold, like he had no emotional attachment to anyone in the room. Quickly he crossed the room to where Ulquiorra was hunched. His eyes went over him in an assessment that seemed to tell him more than what Orihime's look had done. He turned to her.

"Can you stand?"

"Y-yes," she stammered out, "but--"

"Take Nel and go to the main room," Urahara ordered, "close the doors on your way out!"

"I will no!" Orihime said pushing herself to her feet, "I want to know what's happening to him! You can't keep having these secrets--what are you doing?!"

Instantly she found herself on the other side of the closed door. Her head spun as she realized he must have done something that she didn't understand--again. Shaking her head to clear it she looked over at Nel who was sitting sprawled on the floor, looking vacantly at the doors. Orihime walked over to the doors and grasped them, intent on pushing them open and going in there whether they wanted her to or not but she found them to be locked. Of course he would have a way to lock the doors. Cursing her bad luck, Orihime glared at the wood and rice paper before pressing her ear to the frame and trying to hear whatever was going on.

Urahara made sure the doors were locked before he walked back over to Ulquiorra. Carefully the scientist knelt down and looked at the hunched form of the former Espada. He heard the doors lock and knew that Orihime and Nel were gone and yet he was making no move to get up. Urahara ran a hand over his face as he looked at Ulquiorra, a feeling he had not felt in some time coiling through his stomach.

Excitement.

What fractures of humanity he had left told him he should not be feeling anything of the sort. His escape to this place, all that had led to the necessity of that escape, the very barest price should have been his sense of excitement. But he felt it inside him. He could feel the power that hummed through the room, power unlike any he had felt before. He felt like he was not underground, like the world had not ended at his hands. He felt like he was back in his lab, back before what he had taken had been stolen and warped and defined not as good or useful but as evil and twisted. It was science at its purest form. An experiment, a reaction, a result--a result he never could have dreamed of when he designed the orb that would destroy not only his world but almost every other one out there. He should not feel excited about the prospect of what was happening but excitement was exactly what he felt.

"Ulquiorra," he said, "sit up. Whatever's happened, hiding's not going to make it better."

He did not know what went through Ulquiorra's head as he moved, drawing himself inward. Urahara held himself still as Ulquiorra eased himself back onto his heels, his body still curled around itself. His movements were all done with trembling limbs. Urahara held himself still as he watched the the former Espada move, not reacting to anything though he was sure of what would happen. Slowly Ulquiorra straitened up until he sat there on his knees, his hands in his lap and his eyes locked with Urahara's.

Despite his efforts not to let anything show on his face Urahara knew his features were pure awe. His eyes moved over Ulquiorra as his mouth fell open. The excitement he felt evaporated, replaced with the awe reflected on his face. Words failed him, his mind failed him--he was sure that if he had enough humanity left to weep he would have. Urahara had never believed in the nonsensical notion of a God--and he was sure he had not back when he was a member of the living. He had heard tales of people who experienced miracles, things so wonderful and impossible that there could be no explanation for what was happening. Urahara was sure that there was an explanation for what he saw, somewhere there was one . But looking at it, he could not think of one. He had never dreamed this when he ad set out for the experiment, not in a million years and yet now as he looked at the being in front of him all he could think was that this was the ending he had been looking for, almost without even realizing it. The weight of the journey, of the events, that had taken him to this point was staggering to think about but sitting there Urahara realized that for the first time he could remember they seemed almost worth it. Everything that had brought him to this point, every life lost and wrong turn taken, the burden of it all lessened as he stared at Ulquiorra, lost in the awe of what he had created.

"My God," he breathed, "its finally done."

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**What just happened?! -that's probably a bad thing for the author to ask. I know what happened! But you'll find out soon too, promise. Next time we'll find out more of what happened to the other Espada and of course Ulquiorra's current situation as well. Maybe Orihime will get some answers out of Nel but I doubt it.**

**Anyway, please review! Last time only a few of you rock stars came out to review. Thanks to those who did, you guys rock my toe socks. For the rest of you, please PLEASE review! I accept anonymous reviews if you wanna do it that way but please review! **


	10. End Transmission

**WoW! Okay so first off good job with all the guesses for what happened! Some of you got pretty close! Second I just wanted to make it clear that Ulquiorra's isn't becoming human. Just fyi. You'll find out what he is (which I'm not saying) very soon but I just thought I'd clear that one up right now. **

**Back to the story!**

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Something was wrong.

Well, Orihime reasoned as she paced, there was a lot wrong with what was going on. But this went beyond that. What had just happened was wrong in a way that nothing else had been. Everything else, no matter how odd or troublesome hadn't hurt her. Not like what had just happened had. The adrenaline from what had just happened made it impossible for her to sit still, even for a moment and certainly for longer than that. She knew it had only been minutes since Urahara had thrown them out of the room, locking himself in there with Ulquiorra and yet to her frantic mind it felt as though it had been hours---years even since he had shut the screen between the two of them. She wanted nothing more in the world than to just make sure he was alright. The scream that had come from his lips was like nothing she had ever heard before in her entire life. It still echoed in her ears, that horrible sound of someone in pain--worse than pain, in agony. And the airless feeling, gasping for air without getting any in your lungs--that feeling was beyond any she had felt.

Her chest still burned from it but she was sure no matter how bad she felt, Ulquiorra felt a thousand times worse. She knew that there wasn't anything wrong with her lungs, she could breathe now just fine. The suffocating feeling she had felt only happened when Ulquiorra had been unable to breathe. Even now as she played the events back in her head she couldn't say how she had known to break the hardness encasing his chest. She had just known that if she did that, if she shattered that then he would be able to breathe and once he could, then she could as well. It had worked but she did not understand what had happened. Her thoughts were so jumbled that she doubted she could make sense of it even if the answer was simple and obvious. She hardly even cared at the moment either. Her thoughts were only for Ulquiorra, for what was happening on the other side of the screens. He had not let her see his face, he hadn't responded to her when she had spoken his name. Even if the response was negative or to try and hide any reaction, he had always responded. Whatever had happened, it was enough to make even him act strange and Orihime was quite sure she'd never met anyone who acted as strange as Ulquiorra in her entire life.

Orihime pressed a hand to her chest, looking at the door. She didn't know if her voice would be strong or if it would even come out of her mouth at all. When she woke from her nightmares, she had felt the breathless feeling before but it had never been anything like what she had just felt. She knew her chest would recover, that the problem had not been with her ability to breathe, it had been with his. It was clear that they had something in their past but she had thought whatever they had shared was emotional, not physical. This had been a physical connection, in a way Orihime was sure she'd never felt before. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that everything that had happened to Ulquiorra had happened to her. But if that was the case then why could she not figure out what was happening to him now? Did their connection come and go or was it an ever present thing? Fingers tightening in the fabric on her chest, she bit her lip and forced her eyes away from the door. She felt more unsettled then she had in a long time, certainly since she came to this strange place.

A part of her wanted to storm in there and say something or do something--do anything but sit out there like she was nothing. But for the life of her she could not make herself move towards the door. Taking a deep breath Orihime forced her hand down from her chest, running her hands over the threadbare, patchwork fabric of her dress.

But the fabric was neither threadbare nor patchwork.

Orihime stared down at her hands and the dress they rested against. Suddenly the dress she wore was not the patchwork garment that Urahara had given her to wear. The fabric under her fingers was perfectly smooth, not the jerky patches of cloth that made up the dress she had worn moments ago. It was strapless and fell almost to her ankles. A thick black band of fabric wrapped around her hips and another formed an outlined to reveal another layer of white fabric. Her feet were no longer bare but encased in black and white boots. She had thought her hair was long but now she could feel the length even longer, falling almost to her waist. Her hands were also not the hands she was accustom to seeing. Red stained her knuckles, as if she had pounded on something very hard moments ago. Orihime opened her mouth, more in surprise than to speak, but found that she could hardly think. Instead of the confusion she felt moments ago, grief and anger were the emotions that pulsed through her. She was sad and terrified and furious beyond belief at something she could not name.

At something she could not remember.

Almost afraid, Orihime moved one of her hands forward. Something tumbled from her hand to the ground. The illusion she was seeing, or the memory she was trapped in, did not dissipate. If anything it grew sharper, clearer and certainly wider. Her feet were not on the smooth wood of Urahara's floor, rather they were on dark stone. The warmth and flickering light of the house was gone, replaced with the sterile and unforgiving alien moon. A patch of it illuminated the ground directly in front of her, the light in the shape of an arch marred by evenly spaced bars. Orihime twisted around. Urahara's house was gone, replaced by a massive room with high walls and a single window in the shape of an arch. The rest of the room was lost largely to shadows but Orihime could see a table with a single chair and an oversized white couch. It was hard to tell with the lack of light but everything seemed to be white. White like the palace from her dreams. But though the dreams seemed real, Orihime was sure they had never seemed as real as this. Turning around to where she had been facing, she saw an outline of the door. Was that what she had been pounding so frantically on? Involuntarily she took a step forward. Barred windows, a door with no handle--it could only mean one thing.

This was not a room, it was a cell.

Her foot touched something, something small. Moving her foot to the side, Orihime bent down to the ground. Framed in between two of the shadows of the bars on the window was a pair of blue flower hairpins. Orihime reached out and picked up the hairpins. Just like the dress she wore and the cell she stood in, these felt more real than any dream she had suffered through. Straitening up, she ran a finger over the blue enamel of the flower. Her fingers knew the surface, as if she had ran her finger over it every day for almost all of her life. But just like every other part of the strange equation she had no idea why it would feel that way. She had never seen the hairpins she held in her entire life. Orihime felt her brow furrow in confusion as she looked down at the hairpins in her hand. Of all the strange things that had occurred, the hairpins were the thing that truly stopped her. These were important, she could feel that more than she had felt anything in her entire life. Her head said that these were just hairpins, that they could not be that important but her heart said that they were.

As she stared at the hairpins she heard the sound of the door opening.

But the doors that opened were the ones separating her from Ulquiorra.

Orihime inhaled sharply as the world spun back into focus. Suddenly she was in the warm main room of Urahara's house. She looked down to see her hands were empty and unblemished and the dress she wore was the threadbare, patchwork one that Urahara had given her to wear. Gone was the cold cell and the hairpins and the perfect white dress. Her breath caught in her throat as she turned around, desperately trying to get her bearings. Her eyes finally landed on the doors. Urahara had already stepped out and was sliding them closed. Orihime shoved away all the confusion and fear aside, she took a step towards the doors. Urahara turned around towards him. The doors were already closed by the time the blond man turned towards them, purposefully stepping in between her and the room where Ulquiorra was.

"What's wrong with Ulquiorra?!" Orihime demanded, her voice coming out high and terrified, "why did he scream like that--why couldn't I breathe when he couldnt--w-what happened?!"

Urahara looked at her but the look on his face was not one of concern or amusement. He looked surprised and content, as if he had reached the end of a long race that he did not think he would finish. Somehow that look did not do anything to help the fear that was coursing through Orihime. He had not looked like that when he had seen Ulquiorra on the ground and now that he did, it did nothing to make Orihime think that there was anything good going on behind those doors. Urahara seemed too shocked to even say anything. Though he looked at her, he didn't give any sort of reply. Then Orihime's eyes landed on the white, dust covered jacket that he held.

It was all that Orihime could take.

Risking being put to sleep or thrown aside by whatever power Urahara possessed, Orihime ran forward. Reaching out she threw open the doors and ran into to the room, turning around and slamming them shut before Urahara could pull her away. She was surprised that she made it without him stopping her. Closing her eyes she pressed her hands to the doors. She had made it into the room but now she had no idea what she was going to do. But him hiding away, her keeping her face to the door, it wasn't going to do anything for either of them. Not with what had just happened. Taking a deep breath, Orihime lowered her hands and turned to face the interior of the room.

It was dark. Every candle, every source of the light was extinguished. The room had been plunged into darkness. Orihime stepped forward. Without the warm light the room was almost interchangeable with the cell she had just found herself in. Only her hand on the threadbare garment she wore assured her that she was in the present. Carefully Orihime raised a foot and took a step forward, moving away from the doors. It took her three steps before her foot touched dust. For a second her breath caught in her throat as her eyes went immediately to the shadows that hid the ground from her. But she knew Ulquiorra was in this room and if the lights were out then something physical had happened, something that he was not alright with. Gasping at the dust by her foot was not going to help either of them and, worse, it was going to make him feel bad. Instead, Orihime sidestepped the dust, moving as much to the side as she could to avoid it. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she realized that she could make out some shapes. The shape of the bed was familiar enough and her eyes easily picked out the figure sitting on it. He was bent over, arms resting on his knees so that he was almost doubled over. It was odd to see him like that but Orihime was undeterred. Carefully she moved closer to him, keeping her movements slow so that if he pushed her away she'd have time to deal with it.

"Are you alright?" she asked, relieved when her voice did not come out high and hysterical, "I'm sorry," she said shaking her head, "that was a silly question. Of course you're not--but--" she trailed off as her feet came to stop right in front of his knees, "can i sit?"

The shadow did not respond so Orihime lowered herself onto the bed. This close she could hear him breathing, the sound rhythmic and steady. In the darkness she couldn't make out most of the colors but she could see the lines of his body that had become familiar. He was shirtless and wearing only the hakama that Urahara had given him. A part of Orihime wanted to go for the candles but she sensed that Ulquiorra wouldn't take kindly to that. There would be time for that later. What had just happened had, well, just happened. She could at least give him a moment of indulgence. She could make out his hair and, from the angle he sat at, how it came to fall in front of his face. Even so she knew he was aware of every motion she made, though she didn't know if he watched her with his eyes or not. Orihime looked down at her hands, unsure if she should continue to speak or just to sit there quietly or even to sit there at all. Rushing in had been hasty but she couldn't just stand there as Urahara stood looking awestruck and not speaking.

"When we knew each other before," Orihime said, "did we--affect each other? Physically I mean. Because when you couldn't breathe, I couldn't breathe either. Is that--is that _supposed_ to happen? Has it happened?"

"Yes," came the reply after a silent moment, "once. It happened once."

His voice was tired and hoarse--hoarser than it should have been from the single scream she had heard. But the weariness was something new. She was so used to hearing him sound emotionless, or cold even that the sudden tiredness was jarring. It was as if he was too exhausted to hold the pretense of not caring up any longer. The defeat and exhaustion in his voice was a sharp contrast to the surprise and content in Urahara's gaze, as if the happiness of one had come at the cost of the other. Orihime felt an abrupt burst of loyalty towards Ulquiorra and anger coursed through her at the thought that Urahara was happy because of what had happened to him. Her concern towards him eclipsed the content in his response. She wanted to ask what had happened before when something had happened to him and it had affected her but she found she couldn't bring herself to press him. Not now, not when he sounded like speaking was even hard for him. She had wanted to make sure he was, in some way, alright and she had done that. Pressing him for information wouldn't help either of them now.

"You should probably get some rest," Orihime said, "I'm sure Urahara has another room somewhere in this place that I can sleep in--"

"No," he cut her off, "we need to leave, quickly. My loss of control will have attracted others. Urahara can defend himself but we must leave this place before they get here."

"Well if they're after me then I can leave," Orihime said, "but what just happened to you--you can't go anywhere yet."

"That does not matter," he replied, his voice evening out.

"Of course it matters!" Orihime gasped looking at him, "even if you aren't human you still need to rest after you've been hurt. We--I--you--you couldn't breathe. And I broke a staff across your back! Of course you need to rest."

"I am not like you," Ulquiorra said.

"I know," Orihime said, scratching at the patch of fabric over her knees, "but if we really are in that much trouble, wouldn't it be better to make sure you're alright before we go running off?"

Ulquiorra was tempted to open his mouth and tell her no. No it would not be better to make sure that he was alright because the truth was that he was not. Not anymore. And he was never going to be alright until they found a way to reverse something that wasn't supposed to happen for a very long time. Now their best hope, possibly their only hope, was for them to put as much distance between themselves and the rest of the players in this conflict. If they could do that then they stood a chance. But if they stayed then they were in a huge amount of trouble. But the fact was that she was right. He could deny it all he wanted but the fact was he was struggling to remain conscious and hold a conversation with her. He could hear the emotional edge in his voice but found it impossible to prevent it from slipping in. He had even admitted to her something he was sure he should not have, and yet she was both conscious and sitting there arguing with him. Ulquiorra wished that he was not too weary to push her away, physically, emotionally--or preferably both. But he found that he was almost too weary to do anything of the sort.

The image of how he had seen her, moments before the agony took him, was still stark in his mind. Every one of their interactions before that had been laced with a bittersweet sense of regret. Ulquiorra had never really had someone to miss before, not when he could still see them in front of him, and most of the time they had spent together he had been so occupied with holding people at an arm's length he had not realized how accustom he had become to her personality. How she had acted had been actually rather helpful. Every fight she fought, every harsh word she spoke was a constant reminder that the woman in front of him was powerless and angry and hurt. That she was not like the woman who had changed everything so drastically. But after he saw her in that moment when her guard was down, everything was different. He had been sure that the woman he had protected without a second thought was gone that it had never occurred to him she was hidden somewhere in the sadness and anger that Orihime now showed to the world. Now as he sat there, as she did not press him for details or act as she had been, he realized that he did miss her. On some level, in his own way, he missed the very person that he had once been so anxious to get rid of.

"We cannot stay long," he said finally.

"Absolutely not," Orihime said, getting to her feet, "you should get some sleep. I'm sure Urahara will let us know--"

"Nel," he said, "if Nel begins to act strangely or disappears, that is when we leave."

"Okay," Orihime said, "she's really skittish so I bet that's a better indicator anyway," she sidestepped the dust pile, "oh, and Ulquiorra? I'm sorry I had to hit you with your staff."

"You do not need to apologize," he said.

Orihime nodded before she turned around and slipped out of the room.

Ulquiorra waited until he heard the doors slide shut behind her and for the small sliver of light that was allowed in by her exist to disappear before he moved. Carefully he eased himself to the side. Every inch of skin seemed hypersensitive, every muscle ached viciously and the lower part of his torso seemed to burn with the remnants of what had happened. It hurt but he eased himself back, laying down as carefully as he could. Flat on his back, he looked up at the ceiling. He did not know what he was going to see when he dreamed, only that it would most likely be very unpleasant. Taking a deep breath, he gave into the pull of sleep, letting his eyes drift shut.

He was already asleep by the time Orihime returned with the blanket she'd taken from one of the other rooms.

She had taken it because she remembered that the blankets on the bed weren't that thick. Still unsure of what happened to Ulquiorra, she knew that she always slept better when she was warm. There was an odd sort of chill that seemed to exist in this place and with all the candles out she knew that it was worse in that room than in any other. Making her way over to the bed she had a feeling it was Ulquiorra's fatigue and injury that kept him asleep. A part of her wanted to look at him, to see what he was so reluctant to show but the rest of her knew better than that. She didn't want to force him, not now. Stopping at the edge of the bed, she placed the blanket at the food of it and pulled it forward, spreading it over him. He didn't stir as she covered him with it, making sure he was completely wrapped in it before she stepped back. Deciding not to push her luck by studying him, Orihime turned and tiptoed back to the door. At it however, she paused, turning to look at his sleeping form.

"Sleep tight," she whispered, hoping both that he could and couldn't hear her before she slipped out of the room.

Ulquiorra did not hear her.

He was not laying on the bed, covered by a blanket brought to him by a woman who he had covered with a blanket many times before. No, Ulquiorra was somewhere else entirely. He was standing on a column that reached out of the water. There were thousands of them within his sight, all made of the same ebony stone. The world was dark, the sky was one of night but it was illuminated all the same with countless stars. There was no moon here and that, at least, Ulquiorra could appreciate. He had seen enough of the moon to last his whole life but the stars were an entirely different matter. Ulquiorra looked down at himself. He was dressed in a loose shirt and pants, rolled at the sleeves and cuffs to reveal the skin underneath. He had no Hole or tattoo or any of the markers he had become accustom to seeing. Past his bare feet he could see the polished black stone of the column, the surface almost bright enough to be reflective. But it was the ocean that stopped him. The ocean was still but it was full of lanterns. Pale blue, dove grey, even emerald green they all floated by him painting the ocean and the columns in a multitude of color. It was night in this place but Ulquiorra was sure it was brighter than anywhere he had lived.

He did not feel worried or upset as he stood there. He knew he was not asleep, not entirely anyway. The strange familiarity of the world, the calm he felt inside of it, it could only mean that this place was him. It was his inner world. He supposed ti made sense that he would come here, given what had just happened, and he supposed that it was better than whatever strange and twisted nightmares his mind would create, but he still found the idea that he had an inner world to be unpleasant. Because if he was in his inner world than that could only mean the strange creature his Zanpakuto and powers had materialized as was in this world as well and he was beginning to think that things such as desecration, understanding and compassion were beyond the scope of what the creature was capable of feeling--or of expressing. As though his own inner world was conspiring against him he heard the beat of wings a moment before the unmistakable sound of talons hitting the stone column behind him reached his ears.

"Damn! You look awful! You don't even need to turn around for me to see how bad you look! I had a chick that hot tucking me in at night and you wouldn't see me looking like someone's torturing me. But you," there was a low whistle, "man you always gotta be so damn dramatic," there was a chuckle, "you know I bet if you smiled more you'd be better at these big life changes."

Slowly Ulquiorra turned to face the creature behind him, the manifestation of everything he had once so seamlessly been.

"Hello, Murcielago."

* * *

**So whose got a new idea for what's happening to Ulquiorra?**

**And to Orihime! **

**And to both of them?!**

**I'm sorry about the delay in the chapter things but we are getting very VERY close to the big reveal of what actually happened and I wanted to make sure I had it all worked out. I do and it seriously was one of the most fun things to write ever! I hope it'll be satisfying to read too! **

**So first off I wanted to say in response to a few messages that when I say what'll happen next tim here, its usually more of an obscure sketch than a hard truth. I've got a basic outline for what's going to happen but that evolves and grows as the story does. so any 'next time' notes are more 'next time but maybe not' than actual definites of what'll happen next chapter. **

**Last time you guys rocked my freakin socks off with reviews and I hope you'll do it again! Its more fun that way. You're excited, I'm excited and then I update and we get more excited! I promise too that when we find out what's really happened that won't be the end of it. There is a whole reason everyone's here and we'll get into that starting very very soon. And it can be even sooner if you review! **

**So please review! **


	11. Beautiful Thieves

**Omigosh you guys were SO GOOD with guessing! Some people came really REALLY close but no one hit it dead on the money. Oh well, you guys (and gals) still rocked.**

**Now I wasn't going to do anything with Murcielago this chapter but so many of you commented I felt I had to. So we've got an opening with him. See? You influence the story! **

* * *

The light from the lanterns below crept up the face of the column, painting it a hundred different colors while the bright stars above illuminated the two figures standing there.

For one who had known Ulquiorra before the events that had changed him so drastically, it would appear he had been split perfectly down the middle. On one column was the human figure, hands neatly tucked into his pockets and emerald eyes cool. On the other was a monsterous figure with a long, wicked looking tail and huge ebony wings. One looked at the other with a cool expression that gave nothing way while the other's gold eyes were bright with emotion. On his own column Ulquiorra looked at the form of Murcielago and wondered if he was, in fact, split in two or if this was something else entirely. He knew that the form in front of him was how he had looked when he was in his Second release, that it was his power manifested into a separate, sentient being. And yet it went beyond that. This was a reflection of his soul, of the uncontrolled emotions that coursed through him--emotions he had spent a lifetime controlling. From the limited interactions he had had with the creature in front of him, control was not something Murcielago was in possession of. Any thought, no matter how sad or happy or perverse was shared and expressed.

"I can't believe it finally happened," Murcielago said, tail whipping back and forth, "I thought we'd have more time."

"It is a reaction," Ulquiorra told him emotionlessly.

"To her," Murcielago said. Ulquiorra nodded, "shit," he ran a clawed hand through his hair, agitation coming into his gold eyes, "you know if she'd just left us alone this wouldn't have happened. I know she thought she was helping but--" he motioned between them, "look at us man! We're all split up--literally!"

"You are a manifestation of my power," Ulquiorra said, "you are not me--"

"Wake up man! I'm totally you! Look at me!" the hysteria in his voice was evident, "we were one for so damn long and now I'm--" he waved his hands.

"Calm down," Ulquiorra cut him off, "your emotional hysteria will do nothing to help the situation."

"And your stick up the ass-ness will?!" he cocked his head to the side, oh you're talk about last time? With that whole emotion thing and us getting our ass kicked. It was that orange haired asshole who kicked our ass, not our emotions!"

Ulquiorra lowered his head. He knew the spirit was right, on some level. It had been Ichigo's attacks that ended his existence but he had let his emotions cloud his judgement. He had spent endless hours replaying the fight in his head, analyzing every move that he had made during the battle. There were things he could not have anticipated, things he could not have reacted to in any other way. But every mistake he had made had been a direct result of his emotional involvement in the fight. He had not just revealed his ace, so to speak, he had laid every card he possessed out on the table without any thought to consequence. He had been helpless against his emotional whims. The sensible part of him had known that he was being reckless but the rest of him had not cared.

He wanted Ichigo Kurosaki to _suffer_.

He wanted him to look at him and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could beat him and not care. Ichigo had come in there, all hope and brightness and he had wanted nothing more than to beat him until that light went out. Until the despair the orange haired man felt was like nothing he had known before. He had gone to his first release too quickly and his second release, his secret move, he had used without any thought to keeping it a secret. Had he not been killed and they won, Aizen would have known instantly when he saw the resulting damage to Las Noches. But Ulquiorra had not been thinking of things like consequence or the would be God finding a secret he had guarded so carefully. All he cared about in the world was beating Ichigo Kurosaki until his overly large head was nothing but a pile of mush on the dust of the dome.

He had been the one to wind up being destroyed. Not as mush of course but as dust, as if his body had already been cremated and his ashes were being scattered to the wind. That should have been the end of it.

Fate, it seemed, had other plans.

"Oh shit man," Murcielago said, his head jerking up, "you gotta go fast."

"What?" Ulquiorra frowned, turning his head.

"Go!" he urged, "but remember: don't become emotionally compromised!"

In the main room of the house, Orihime sat dozing by the window, too caught up in her own confused thought to actually put any effort towards falling asleep. Urahara was somewhere and Nel was curled up like a cat in the far corner of the room but all Orihime could think about was Ulquiorra and what was happening to him. The idea of him breaking, of that hard skin shattering, it made her head spin. Rationally she knew he was fine, he had all but told her as much, but the idea of what he looked like underneath the chalk white was both unsettling and intriguing. The part of her that wondered made her feel ashamed. He was clearly off put and embarrassed about what was happening and she was sitting there wondering like some school girl about what he looked like. If how he looked with the chalk exterior was any indication then--well, then he was actually quite handsome now.

The door slammed open before they had any sort of warning.

There was an odd popping sound as suddenly the room became full of people. Almost instantly two pairs of hands grabbed her arms and wretched them behind her back. There was a swift strike to the back of her legs and Orihime felt her knees slam into the wood of the floor. She opened her mouth to scream for Ulquiorra but a length of fabric was stuffed in her mouth and held tight behind her head. Orihime gagged reflexively but the hands were merciless. Struggling to get her breathing normal, Orihime was frozen by the feet that came into her line of view. Slowly she raised her head to look at the woman who was clearly in charge of the figures holding them captive.

She was beautiful in a primal, savage sort of way. She wore tight dark pants and an equally tight dark top. Her entire body was covered but nothing was left to the imagination. She recognized the black and silver boots the woman wore, though these were taller than the ones that Orihime remembered wearing. Braces were strapped to her knees and thighs, both of the same polished ruby metal. The same ruby braces were on her arms and shoulders, the straps making a pattern on her chest. Orihime could see the blade she wore horizontally on her back. The lower half of her face was covered by a piece of ruby cloth, the color oddly beautiful against her mocha skin and blond hair. There was not a part of her that didn't echo of danger and destruction. It was not evil, not really, it was just the nature of the woman who stood there. Orihime got the distinct impression that the woman standing there did not kill for desire or purpose or anything except in defense or because she felt threatened. It was primal, not wicked.

All the people who held them down were dressed like her, all in the same ruby only their faces were hidden completely. This woman was clearly the leader of the crew and she was not taking any chances with them. There were three figures standing with each of them, four for Urahara as if the woman especially did not trust them. Urahara looked at her carefully, as if he was trying to judge whether or not the woman would be a viable specimen. Nel on the other hand looked reproachfully at the woman. She looked like a child looking at a doctor who had given her a shot, someone who had inflicted pain without the child realizing why it had been necessary. Orihime on her part did not know what she should feel as she looked at the woman, only that she knew on an almost instinctive level that the woman would not think twice about killing her--before, during or after she committed the actual crime. The knot of ice that settled in Orihime's stomach only made her more sure that the presence of the woman in front of her meant nothing good for any of them.

The feeling only solidified when the men dragged Ulquiorra out of the room.

"Ulquiorra!" Orihime cried desperately through the gag as she looked at him.

He was doubled over, obviously having been hurt. Two men were on each of his arms and a third slammed him onto his knees as the others wretched his arms behind his back. He made no sound, even though Orihime knew that the pain must have been great for them to disable him so completely. The light revealed the transformation in his entirety. His skin was pale but no longer bone white. Without his shirt the smooth, unbroken skin of his torso was revealed in its entirety. The thin lines of blue were still on his cheeks but Orihime didn't know if they were permanent or not. His nails remained the same ebony, matching the dark hair that fell messily in front of his features. His emerald eyes were still as bright as they had been when surrounded by the bone white of his features. His eyes were averted, as if by looking down he could make the entire miserable situation end. The woman on the other hand moved forward seamlessly, one hand streaking out and grabbing his hair, wrenching his head back to expose his features fully.

"My God," she breathed staring at Ulquiorra as the faceless figures moved with obvious agitation. Her fingers dropped from his hair as she turned and strode over to Urahara, "what did you do to him?" she demanded, her voice echoing with the cold fury Orihime had seen in her eyes.

"I didn't do anything," Urahara said.

"Then how is he--" she began before stopping.

Suddenly Orihime was aware of all the eyes in the room on her. Her lips pressed around the cloth strip in her mouth and her heart pounded in her chest as the woman walked over to her, coming to stand in front of her. The men's instantly dragged her up, hauling her roughly to her feet. Orihime knew it was their grip on her that kept her from sprawling on her face. Even so she pitched forward, only to be pulled upright by their hands. Orihime gasped as her arms cried out in pain from their rough grip and awkward angle but she refused to make a sound past that. The woman in red walked forward until she stood right in front of her. Slowly Orihime raised her eyes to meet those of the woman, her own violet grey ones locking with the woman's bright teal orbs. The woman held her gaze for a moment before she looked back at Urahara.

"Its her, isn't it?" she said, "its been five years, why now? Why like this?"

"I have a theory--" Urahara began.

"Spare me your dramatics and get on with it," she said.

"Proximity and the survival instinct. Their presence affects each other and when one undergoes life threatening physical changes, the other experiences it as well. He couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe. What I did might have started him on this path but its his connection to Orihime that took him all the way. A connection your late 'God' established between them."

"I am well aware of Aizen's capacity for cruelty," came the chilly reply, "and what about this?" she asked holding out the staff, "they affect each other. Clearly she is still powerless and he is not."

"No," Urahara agreed, "the power thing is a bit trickier. We never understood her powers like we did his," he looked at Orihime for a second before looking back at the woman.

"I see," the woman said, turning around and walking over to where Ulquiorra was being held. Handing the staff off, she reached behind her and drew her sword, "you said that their connection comes to life when one of them is in danger? Lets see how far that theory goes."

The air seemed to leave the room as the woman drew her blade with the soft whisper of steel on leather. Arms still held by the men, the one who kept him kneeling roughly shoved him forward, exposing his neck to the woman and her blade. Orihime spared no thought to wonder at the cruelty of this woman, at the fact she would kill him just to see if they were correct in their theories. All Orihime could see was Ulquiorra, bent over and unable to do anything to fight his captors. She saw the tension in his arms and back, how he was trying to struggle against them but finding it impossible to do so. She was still standing but the hands on her made it impossible for her to move as well. The powerless feeling, was overwhelming, i was crippling. She could do nothing to help them, nothing to even help herself. All she could do was stand there, like some useless, helpless bystander even though everything that was happening was her fault.

Instinct took over as she jerked her arms and tried to twist out of their grip. She had to fight them, she had to get to Ulquiorra. The feelings were overpowering, though she knew they made no sense. Get to Ulquiorra and then what? They were surrounded and at a serious tactical disadvantage. But in the face of the blade that was next to Ulquiorra's neck she didn't care. She just knew that she had to get to him, she had to save him from what was happening. It was more than just because he had helped her--saved her even. Every pound of her heart and heave of her chest made her more certain that if she did not make it to him, if she did not get to him then something truly terrible was going to happen. It was like a panic attack except magnified. The little whisper in the back of her head that said everything would be okay was silent, replaced by a thousand voices screaming that she had to fight this, she had to get to him before this woman did whatever she was about to do. Her struggle delayed the action in some way but eventually she drew back the sword. Orihime struggled harder but it was to no avail. This woman in red, she was going to kill Ulquiorra and there was absolutely nothing that Orihime could do to stop or fight. She really was useless.

"No!" Orihime screamed, her words muffled by the gag, "no, please don't--please don't do this! Ulquiorra!"

As if in slow motion she saw the sword draw back to the full extension of the woman's arm. The light from the candles flickered against the ruby of her armor, making the woman seem not like an executioner but like a Queen. Orihime's gaze tore from the blade to land on Ulquiorra's form. He was going to die. He was going to die and something truly terrible was going to happen. Numb with horror, she watched as the blade began its arc towards his neck. All her struggling, all her fear--all the emotions she felt had been for nothing. Would be for nothing. Everything that had happened, everything that would happen, it would end as soon as the blade severed his head. The rage and fear that built up inside her continued to do so and Orihime felt as if she was going to die as well. Die from the emotion, the adrenaline, from everything. It all had to go somewhere. Unable to do anything else all she could do was squeeze her eyes shut and scream around the confined of her gag as she watched the blade slice towards him.

It was a release.

That was the only way to describe it. Like some invisible dial had been turned, like some internal mechanism had clicked. She felt a change in the light of the room. It no longer flickered like a candle, rather it burned consistently. Like someone had taken the sun and brought it into the darkness of the world. Almost afraid, Orihime opened her eyes. The room was even brighter with her eyes open, transforming the people standing nearest to the light into mere silhouettes. Squinting against the brilliance, Orihime raised her head. The woman in red was standing there, her sword still arced towards Ulquiorra's throat. But instead of hitting it, a bright gold shield of light stood between her and Ulquiorra. All the figures seemed shocked, too shocked to do their jobs properly. Before they could fully recover, Orihime ripped her arms from their numb grasp and scrambled towards the gold light. The shield remained burning and bright, even though Orihime had no idea what was going on only that even if the shield looked as though it was transparent, it was enough to stop a sword being swung at full power.

"Restrain her," the woman said, her voice cool and seemingly unaffected by the turn of events as she lowered her sword.

Orihime cried out as her already sore arms were wretched behind her back and she was driven to her knees once more. The surprise was enough that she lost hold on whatever allowed her to generate the shield. The light vanished as abruptly as it had come. She had made it close enough to Ulquiorra that now at least she could see him clearly. But it did her no good. His eyes were on the ground, his arms relaxed in the grip of his captors. It was as if the shield that had responded to her screams, the thing that had saved his life, had revealed something to him. Something that made him want to stop fighting, stop struggling towards being released. Abruptly she felt a hand wrap in the fabric of the gag still shoved in her mouth before it was pulled tight once more. Orihime gagged with the renewed force, the odd taste of the fabric making her want nothing more than to get the thing out of her mouth. The sound of her gagging against the fabric was not even enough to make Ulquiorra look up. Whatever the gold light had meant, it was enough that even Ulquiorra seemed shocked by its woman gave no reaction at the disappearance of the shield, walking right through where it had been located to stand in front of Orihime.

But the person who stood in front of Orihime was not the woman in red.

The scene changed too quickly for Orihime to prepare herself or even for her to properly react. The endless night was back but the scene was not the cell. It was an endless expanse of hard white. She could feel the broken, pitted ground under her knees and the breeze at the back of her neck. She was cold, colder than she could ever remember being in her entire life. And exhausted, as if everything she had in her had been spent. Her eyes still burned like she had been looking into the bright golden light, but now the rest of her seemed to ache as well. The power she had used wasn't a release, now it felt like she had just signed her own death warrent. She recognized the tell tale tackiness of tears on her cheeks and small cuts all over the rest of her. Her muscles ached furiously, something not helped by the people who held her arms behind her back. Glancing down she saw the same black and white dress she had seen earlier. Looking up, however, there was a man she did not recognize.

Beautiful was the only way to describe him, beautiful in a way that men so rarely were. His hair was black enough to glint blue in the light and fell over his shoulders in a shiny wave. Three white porcelain bars were worked into the side of his hair but the rest of it fell unbound. His features were haughty but they looked at her with a mixture of cold fury and raw disappointment. He was dressed like the Shinigami earlier had been, in the same black clothing, only he also wore an open long white robe. Around his neck was a pale green scarf that matched the fingerless gloves on the backs of his hands. A sword was belted by his side and Orihime knew as certainly as she knew anything that he would not hesitate to kill her with it. From the way his fingers moved ever so slightly towards it, she knew he wanted to kill her with it. Breathing hard, she looked up at him as he stared down at her. When he spoke his voice was just as lovely as his face and just as steely as his eyes.

"I follow the law, Abarai, not my own desires. She comes to Soul Society, the Commander General will pass judgement there."

"Captain--" a voice behind her began.

"Mistress--" a new voice replaced it.

Orihime blinked as the vision dissipated and was replaced by the warm room filled with the figures in red. The figure in front of her was beautiful but not as the man who had just vanished had been. Orihime inhaled sharply, turning her head to look at the room. Everything was just as it had been before. Same bright room, same figures in red, same everything. But the vision she had just had was different. It was the first time she had ever seen a face, a clear and obvious face. And he had spoken to her. But the man she had just seen looked angry at the sight of her, as if she'd done something terrible to him. The woman in front of her now looked icy and cold but not livid and angry like the man before had been. The other man looked like one momentary lapse of control and he'd kill. This woman looked at her now seemed to be in control of herself, but whether it was a trick or something more, Orihime did not know.

"It seems your theory's right," she said looking at Urahara before her teal eyes suddenly narrowed, "where is Nel?" Orihime turned her head towards where the green haired woman had been "you four, where is she?!"

"I--I'm sorry mistress I don't know where she is," one said, "she must have used the confusion--"

"I don't care what confusion she used!" she stopped, looking at the three of them as though considering who was the larger prize. She turned towards Orihime, "ungag her," she ordered, "do you know who I am?"

The gag was wretched from her mouth, fast enough Orihime knew her cheek would be burned from the fabric. Coughing, it took her a moment to realize that woman had spoken to her. Slowly, Orihime raised her head to look at the woman, unsettled at just how clear and piercing her bright teal eyes were, Especially above the ruby of the fabric that covered her mouth and nose.

"I don't remember anyone," Orihime said looking at her.

"A gift from your Shinigami friends, no doubt," she said flexing her fingers.

"Don't," the word was a harsh warning, spoken from Ulquiorra. Both women turned to him but his eyes locked with the woman's, "there is a block in place. If you speak of what happened she will be affected physically and the results are a danger to her."

"And to you," she said, turning back to Orihime, "well I do know you, Orihime Inoue, and I know what you were once capable of. I have no patience for dramatics so I'll be to the point. Your little green haired friend knows the location of something, of an object of great power--an object I need to be in possession of."

"Let me guess," Orihime said, "you need me to get it."

"To put it simply, yes. Though you wouldn't know to look at it, Hueco Mundo is at war. In order to change that we need this object before the others who are after it get their hands on it."

"And why would I want to help you?" Orihime demanded, "you just came in her, threw us to the ground and held us against our will--and you almost killed him in an effort to prove your point!" she glared, "why would I want to help you with anything? Especially getting your hands on something thats so powerful you've got to get it before anyone else does?"

"Because right now Neliel Tu Odelschwanck is a mentally fractured woman who has the capacity of a six year old child. If one the other leaders gets a hold of her they will not ask, they will torture her. And you want this object to be in the possession of someone who is willing to let you work with it."

"You know for someone who says they don't like dramatics you sure like to build the suspense."

"You find Nel, bring me the object and I will let you use it to fix him and to restore your memories."

Orihime stared at her. Nel was in possession of something that would let her remember? Remember everything? Why she was here, what her real connection was with Ulquiorra? It seemed almost too good to be true. And, as she looked at the red woman, she realized that it probably was just that. But it was the only lead they had. The first rule of self defense was that if there was an opening you took it--especially if you had no other options. If the choice was between life and death then you did whatever it took to remain alive. Slowly Orihime nodded.

"I'll find the orb," she said, "but how do I find you?"

"Oh he knows where I am," she said looking at Ulquiorra, seemingly amused at something, "or he should anyway. Be quick about it," she added looking at Orihime, "time moves faster down here," she turned and walked to the door on the floor, "farewell, Orihime Inoue. Until we meet again."

She vanished before she reached the door.

The other figures were gone as well. Without the restraint, Orihime lurched forward, her hands flying out to catch her. Her hands pressed to the ground as she raised her head and looked at the door that the woman had not used. Who was that woman dressed in the red armor? Why had she kept her face hidden by the mask? And what was this object that they were all obsessed with? Questions tumbled through her head as she pushed herself up onto her knees and then onto her feet. Her legs felt like every muscle and bone inside of them had been replaced by jelly. Pressing a hand to the wall, she turned to look at the two men still in the room. Ulquiorra remained on the ground while Urahara stood up, not looking like he had just been slammed into the ground and questioned by a woman wearing a red mask. Frowning lightly the blond man dusted off his robes and straitened them before he turned to the two of them. Both their gazes went to Ulquiorra.

Now that they were not being held hostage, Orihime could see him clearly. All was revealed by the flickering lights. His skin was unnaturally pale because it seemed to be covered in dust. The dust also clung to his coal black hair. Without the bone white exterior he certainly looked human. Slowly he eased himself up until first he sat and then he stood to his full height. Orihime swallowed thickly. She had wondered what he looked like but now, now a she looked at him, she realized that something was terribly wrong. He shouldn't look like that. How he looked with the chalk white skin and broken helmet--that was how he looked. This, this was not what he was supposed to be. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him, seeing for the first time how _wrong_ what she was looking at was. Slowly his emerald eyes went to her own dove grey ones. Their eyes locked for the first time since he had collapsed screaming. Orihime felt the tell tale burning in her eyes as her vision fogged over with tears. She did not know what possessed her to feel that way, what made her throat burn and her eyes fog, only that both were eclipsed by the overwhelming guilt she felt.

"I--" she looked up at him tearfully, too lost in her own emotion to see the surprise in his bright green eyes, "I'm so sorry," she whispered as the world pitched violently.

She only had time to gasp before she fainted dead away.

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**And Orihime's getting some power back! Woot for that. And we get to to see the first of the Shinigami you know from her visions/dreams/memories. Next time you'll get a better sense of who the red woman is, though you probably have already guessed it huh? **

**Now I know many of you have commented on the Alice in Wonderland aspect, you genius reviewers you, so lemme put this to a vote. Do you want to know the character match ups as they come to life or would you rather it remain a mystery? Some of them are probably obvious but others might not be so. Now I'm not saying this story exactly follows either of the Alice in Wonderland books but there are definite aspects in here which I'm not gonna deny. So if you're curious to know whose who in Hueco Mundo-Wonderland, then gimme a shout out!**

**Even if you're not, please review! You all rocked last time and see how fast you got an update? Inspire me to write with your reviews because next time I promise the Ulquihime-ness is gonna really kick off hardcore! She's saved him twice now and we're finally gonna get to see some reaction on his part!**

**So review!**


	12. Aftermath lTea Partyl

**Okay so here's how we are gonna do this.**

**As you've figured out by now, I don't do review replies for every review of every chapter. I think we'd both prefer I spend that time giving you another chapter. But in this case if you want to know whose who in Hueco-Mundo Wonderland, make it very clear in your Review and/or PM. **

**IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHOSE WHO, MAKE IT VERY VERY CLEAR IN YOUR PM WITH SOMETHING ALONG THE LINES OF "YES ENCHANTABLE, I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHOSE WHO" **

**I don't wanna spoil it for anyone who doesn't want to know. I'm not gonna give you everything, just the characters who've been introduced so far. Also please lemme know if you want to know whose who as new characters are introduced. **

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It was half surprising for Ulquiorra how easily he fell back into the role of caretaker.

His own surprise and weariness was pushed aside, just as he had pushed everything he had ever felt to the side in the face of hist duty. As he walked over to Orihime, her tearful apology rang in his ears. He had seen her tears before but the apology, the apology was something new. Something he did not like. How long had he waited for her to acknowledge her wrong doing? How many endless hours had he spent thinking of what she would say--of what he would say? He must have thought of a thousand things he would say and a thousand more that she would respond with. But that tear filled apology, the thought of _that_ had never crossed his mind. Not once, not in all the scenarios he had thought of.

They both knew she did not know what she was apologizing for.

Bending down, Ulquiorra looked at the woman laying there. It was not the first time she had been unconscious, even in the past few days, but this felt different. Her sunset hair fell over her features but it was not enough to hide them. He could see the fine arch of her cheekbone and the dark half moons her lashes made on her cheeks. The tears that had not fallen when she had been conscious finally had. They did not streak her cheeks like the marks on his did, rather they sloped towards the ground, painting a shiny trail on the porcelain of her skin. Her limbs were not sprawled oddly beneath her, in fact there was nothing about her position that seemed awkward or uncomfortable. Even with that thought Ulquiorra knew he could not just leave her there. And yet as he knelt next to her Ulquiorra could not make himself reach out and touch her.

He was both enthralled and terrified of how it would feel to touch her with his skin now. _Herrerio_ was hardened armor, all but dead to sensation. Now his skin felt impossibly differentt. Every particle of dust, every breath of air, he was keenly aware of how each miniscule particle touched his skin. It was as though someone had turned some invisible dial in him. He had always thought that when the day came and he fully changed, he would feel odd or unsettled. But all he felt was hypersensitive, not really odd or unsettled at all. If anything he felt light. It was like he had been running with weights on and they had suddenly been taken off. He half expected to float away. Even without physical contact, his skin seemed to hum withe the simplest of brushes. What would an actual touch be like? What would _she_ feel like? Before touching her had been dizzying. Now he had a feeling it would be something else entirely.

Carefully he reached out, his hand touching her shoulder. Every fiber of his being _recoiled_ at the touch of her warmth, of her skin. Pins and needles shot up his arm as every muscle tensed at the touch of her skin on his. It was as though she was electricity itself. There was really no other way to describe it. The sensation was alien and jarring and every fiber in him wanted to recoil from it but he pushed that aside. Taking care of her all those years ago, it had taught him that his own feelings had to be carefully controlled. They did not matter. Not when she had to be taken care of. Ulquiorra focused on that, on that and only that as he slid his hand forward, easing the appendage between the softness of her shoulder and the hard floor of Urahara's house. The same strange feeling shot up his other arm as he slid it under her knees. His instincts cried out for him to release her but he ignored them, pulling away from the cold and hard of the floor and taking Orihime into his arms. The more skin she touched the harder it was to hold her but he managed none the less. Slowly standing he was surprised at how light she was.

It was unsettling to see her laying in his arms so limply. The light played on the tears that stuck to her cheeks. Ulquiorra looked down at his own dusty skin. Was she as sensitive to touch as he was? Was she aware of everything in the way that he was? Or, because she had not spent years with deadened sensation, was it different for her? He remembered that she had always reacted very strongly when touched. He could recall a myriad of reactions on her face in response to being touched. But now she was completely unresponsive to his touch. But Tia Hallibel had not said anything that would elicit the reaction she had shown before. While he did not find her crying to be pleasant, it was a far cry from the last time when she had collapsed screaming to the ground before Urahara had put her under with some kind of Kido spell. But this was, this was different. She seemed to have fainted, though such an expression of delicateness was not something he would have thought he would see from her. Forcefully Ulquiorra moved his gaze from her face. The feeling of the fabric of her clothing against his skin was affecting him enough without him looking down at he features.

Before Urahara could speak, Ulquiorra walked into the bedroom where they had both slept so recently. She did not stir as he walked into the room, sliding the door behind him shut. Nor did she move when he bent down and eased her onto the bed, moving his arms from her shoulders and knees. Bonelessly she slid onto the bed, not reacting at all as he made sure her head was on the pillow. Her knees remained bent to the side, her arms limp by her sides where they had fallen when he laid her down. Reflexively, Ulquiorra took a step back. The absence of her touch was, in some ways, more affecting than when he had first touched her. He felt cold. Ulquiorra did not think he had ever really felt cold in his time in the endless desert, not externally anyway. But without the warm, electrifying feel of her in his arms he felt like he had lost something. The loss was great enough that even as he stepped back, one of his hands reached forward, as if to touch her once more. Ulquiorra did not allow himself to do that, no more than he would have allowed himself to step back and flee the room. For a moment he just stood there and looked at the woman sleeping on the bed.

That, at least, was familiar.

"Ulquiorra," Urahara spoke, interrupting his thoughts, "you need to wash that dust off."

"I am fine," Ulquiorra replied flatly.

"That may be," Urahara said, "but you are also dusty and not washing that off isn't going to change what's happened," he grinned offhandedly, "besides, who knows, you might get something nasty if you don't--like a rash."

Ulquiorra looked at him, fighting the urge to raise an eyebrow in surprise. A rash? His skin reacting in an actual tangible way? It was almost too unpleasant a thought to bear. He glanced down at the pale skin, pale but not bone white, and the very bone white dust covering his skin. It really was quite terrible to think of. Reacting physically to something as foolish as being covered in dust was not something Ulquiorra wanted or was prepared for. It seemed that it was just another terrible, unpleasant side effect of what was happening to him. But that did not mean he had to particularly care for what was happening. And he did not. Not one bit. He remembered Murcielago's words as he looked down at his hands. His own inner spirit was telling him not to become emotionally yet beyond the dust covered skin of his hand he could see the woman laying unconscious on the bed.

Behind him, Urahara let his own gaze go between the two of them. When he had started this experiment, filled with the hubris that only a young man could be, he had never dreamed of how it would end. But this had started with his hand, that much was undeniable. He had been thinking about who had brought Orihime to this place. His first thought had been to Ulquiorra and his protective streak, but for all the time since the Winter War, the only thing that Ulquiorra protected was dust and rubble. Still following the orders of a man as though he had been a God. Ulquiorra clearly thought it was him, him and his twisted sense of ambition. But it had been some time since Urahara had had anything to do with ambition and the fruits of having it. Given what had just happened, Urahara would have thought that it had been Tia Harribel had brought her here but as he toyed with the idea he realized that was highly unlikely. Tia, however, was very good at creative thinking, so he had a feeling that she had only used the situation to her considerable advantage. But it had given them an important bit of information, something even his brilliant mind had not been able to see.

The who was not as important as the why.

The idea that Orihime Inoue had once again been brought to Las Noches for the Hogyoku was one that had not crossed his mind. Like the rest of them he thought it had been lost or destroyed in the chaos that enveloped the world in the wake of the War. And it seemed that was the case, especially if Neliel Tu was the one in possession of it. He still was not sure how Neliel had wound up in her situation, but it quickly became clear that Neliel had the body of a full mature Arrancar--and most likely the power of one as well--but the mental capacity of a child. He had a feeling that it still had to do with the attack by Nnoitra. But this mentally fractured woman was in possession of an object that could possibly bring order to the chaotic world. But it could also mean that another God King could come to the endless desert of Hueco Mundo and rule from the fractured remains of Las Noches. The chaos that had enveloped Hueco Mundo had revealed that despite the surviving Espada's claims of loyalty towards Aizen, they had easily dissolved to fighting within their own ranks. Small fractions had sprung up and begun to struggle against each other for control of the dust of an empire that had once almost conquered two worlds.

But even in the insanity, there was hope.

Urahara had never been one to believe in miracles. Every miracle he had witness or been a part of had been twisted from something great into something dark. In spite of Orihime's unconsciousness and the obvious disdain on Ulquiorra's face, there was no other way to describe what he had just witnessed. The man in front of him was not an Arrancar, not anymore. It had started by his hand, guided by Aizen's but for the life of him he could not explain what he had just witnessed. It was not just the physical change in Ulquiorra, it was what had happened to Orihime. He knew that she was technically powerless and yet overriding everything that Soul Society had done to her she had saved him. He had not heard her utter the incantation to produce the shield, what she had done was on pure and total instinct. If it had been five, ten years ago, if it had been with anyone else, he would have expected it. If it had been with Ulquiorra he would have been surprised but not as shocked as he was now. Orihime and her friends did have a habit of defying Soul Society--her power was based around rejecting and defiance--but this went beyond even that.

As if aware that the focus was on her, Orihime stirred. Both men looked at the bed as a soft sound fell from the woman's lips. Her fingers moved, curling and uncurling as her brow furrowed. Looking between the two of them, Urahara quickly ducked out of the room, leaving the dusty knight and his princess to themselves.

Orihime fought past the fog and sleepiness that seemed to have taken over her head. Every limb felt heavy and achy, like it had felt when she had been on the ground with the man in the white robe standing over her. it was like everything that she had in her had been used to create the shield that had saved Ulquiorra's life--if life was in fact the right word for what he had. She still did not know how she'd done it, only that now it felt like her entire body was running on nothing. It was a struggle and yet she still managed to open her eyes. She was not surprised to see the smooth white ceiling above her head or the rim of the couch out of the corner of her eye. Her head turned towards the back of the couch. She could feel that she was in the strapless dress once more, the skin of her collarbone bare underneath the thin blanket that had been placed over her. Slowly she pushed herself up into a sitting position, her eyes moving over the smooth contours of the room. She moved slowly, carefully, half expecting that any moment the world would vanish and she would be back in the small house in the tree once more.

Orihime swung her legs over the side of the couch, pushing the blanket aside as she got to her feet. The floor under her feet was cool but she did not bother to look for her boots. If she was able to move then she was not going to waste time looking for her shoes. Cautiously she took a step forward, testing the ground. It remained solid and real under her foot, not vanishing into the smooth wood. Orihime turned towards the wall. Instead of being greeted with a solid wall, however, there was a door now worked perfectly into the wall. Her heart leapt into her chest as she looked at it, half afraid to venture into the white light that seemed to fill the empty space. Taking a deep breath, Orihime moved forward before her courage could fail. She ran for the door and practically threw herself out of it so fast that it was a miracle she did not fall flat on her face. She squeezed her eyes shut as she threw herself through the door, half afraid that she would be slamming into a solid door. The door, however, remained open as she hurried through it and out into the world that lay beyond the confines of her small cell.

It was bright, that was the first thought in her head as staggered and smacked into the far wall, pressing her hands into the white wall. Her eyes widened as she turned her head one way and then the other. The door worked into the wall closed with a hiss as the wall became uniform once more. Orihime turned around and pressed her back into the wall as she looked first one way and then the other again, but the view remained the same. It was endless, unyielding white. She couldn't even figure out a light source. Her eyes went to the ceiling but it was the exact same white as the floors and walls. Her eyes landed on the ground as she looked down to see if her shadow offered any indication of the light source. It did not. Carefully Orihime pushed herself off the wall, taking two laborious steps into the middle of the hallway. Which way was she to go? She had no idea, she only knew that she had to pick a way. But both looked identical. How was she to make any sort sense of this strange place? It seemed familiar but that was nothing considering both ways looked exactly the same. She could pick the wrong way and be certain she was going the right way without going the right way at all.

"Ulquiorra?" she called tentatively, "Grimmjow?" she looked the other way, "Nel? Urahara?"

"Loose something?" a voice inquired.

Orihime gasped and looked in the direction the voice had come from but not a thing or person was there. But she was certain that she had just heard a voice. She twisted the other way in a vain attempt to locate the person who had just spoken to her but once again she found it to be deserted. Orihime's brow furrowed as she looked down at her toes before looking up at the ceiling just to make sure that there was no-one there either. While she was certain people did not walk on ceilings or appear in the floor, she had a feeling that like everyone she had met so far this was not a person. Not in any normal sense of the world anyway.

"Whose there?" she asked. No reply was given, "I have lost something," she said, "or someone rather--or perhaps it is someone. I don't quite know where I am."

"Oh well that's easy. We're in your head. I thought that would have been obvious by now," the voice replied and Orihime could almost hear the grin in his amused tone.

"Its not that simple! Not at all," she said with a shake of her head, "I can't be lost in my own head! Its mine!" she added loudly, her voice echoing off the walls.

"No need to shout," he said, "there's quite an echo in here, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Yes, thank you," Orihime said, sarcasm in her tone, "I had noticed. Now if you are in my head too, that must mean you're a part of me. So if you could point me in the right direction I would like to get out of here."

"Get out of here? How very strange you are to want to leave your own head," came the reply.

Orihime opened her mouth to protest. It was not quite all that simple but the fact of the matter was that she did want to leave her head. But why was that strange? She supposed that anyone who had a head full of white corridors and endless cells and nightmares would want to leave it behind. Orihime sighed and shook her head as she moved forward and towards the left. An invisible force stopped her from continuing. Orihime gasped as her hand was suddenly grabbed and held above her head. Like a ballerina she was twirled around and around until her head was spinning. Finally she stopped twirling and her hand was released. Like a drunkard, she staggered for a few steps before stopping. Both corridors were still identical but now she was facing a clear and distinct direction. Whether it was left or not, Orihime had no idea. She felt a hand on her ankle but once more there was nothing there. Still the surprise was enough that she immediately took a step forward.

"Remember, if you want to get somewhere, the first thing you have to do is move!" the voice called cheerfully behind her.

Wanting nothing more than to get away, Orihime hurried forward. Her head was spinning from the twirl he'd given her and somewhere deep inside she felt indignant. He had twirled her like a ballerina, like a toy in a child's music box. Like she was nothing but a toy. Orihime felt like that enough all ready, being pushed and pulled until she felt like she'd agree to hurl herself off a cliff if it meant that she could just make sense of a single situation. Shaking her head to try and clear it, Orihime walked quickly down the hallway. Other doors were worked into the wall but they weren't open. Orihime stuck to the hallway, though it seemed like she could walk forever without ever really getting anywhere. Raising her eyes, Orihime looked around the higher parts of the corridor but the owner of the voice was nowhere to be seen. Feeling slightly unsettled by that, Orihime kept walking. it was not very long but it felt like it was hours as the moved through the endless white.

Suddenly, down the hall, the light changed.

Orihime gasped aloud at the sight of the change. Picking up the skirt of her dress, she ran forward as fast as she could before the light could disappear or change or be cut off by the seamless white doors that lined the walls. Running as fast as she could, she lunged through the doors before they could close.

This time, at least, she managed to keep her balance.

Something she realized was very lucky as the door slid shut behind her and she looked up to see the new room she stood in. It was massive, larger than any room she had been in before. This room was darker, done in black rather than the endless white. Her dress seemed jarring in its color when faced with the darkness. The columns even were bathed in shadows. Looking down, Orihime realized that the floor was made of square tiles, polished so brightly that they reflected everything. Including the fact that now she had more clothing on. She felt the new garment's presence as if it had always been there, the sleeves and shoulders snug against her skin and pulled by the weight of the long back. But Orihime knew that moments ago she had been wearing only the strapless dress. And she certainly did not remember putting on any cloths. As if invisible hands were once more at her shoulders and back, Orihime suddenly found herself pulled and pushed until she was standing upright. Orihime jumped forward, trying to distance herself from the strange and invisible touch. Her feet echoed loudly off the tiles as she staggered, turning to try and see who had touched her.

That was when she heard the footsteps.

They were precise, methodic---cold even if footsteps could be cold. For a moment Orihime held herself still, horror filling her as she stood there. The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity. The white palace, the endless night, even the slow and methodical footsteps--all of it had been in her nightmares. Nightmares that had driven her to medicate and almost kill herself. A part of her did not want to turn around. In those nightmares the faces of the people she was with were never revealed. But in the flashes she had experienced, they were. She had seen that man's face. If she turned around would she see the face of the man with the cold and methodical footsteps was? Did she want to know? A part of her said no, the part of her that said that of the people she had interacted with there was only one person who had seemed even remotely cold, precise and methodical. If this was the time when she saw their face, she did not know if she wanted to know. Of all the people she had interacted with, in all the insanity, the only person she had felt had any true care of her well being was him. But if the owner of the cold and methodical steps was him--that would change everything.

Swallowing the bile in her throat, Orihime turned around.

She had known. She had to have known, somewhere deep inside. The uncertainty was nothing more than a faint reaction, some glimmer of nonsensical hope that was as pointless as it was foolish. How could she have been so blind? How could she have been so incredibly stupid. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared, wishing with all her heart that the world would magically change. That she would not be standing there staring at something she had not wished to see. Not in all the world. But no matter if she blinked or pinched herself or closed and opened her eyes the view would not change. It would still be there. The white clothing, the white helmet, even the chalk white skin was all identical to how he had been when she had first seen him. His hands were loosely tucked into his pockets, his emerald eyes as cold as she had ever seen them. She was paralyzed, unable to move from where she stood. In the nightmares she had never seen their faces. But now as she stood there she realized that the nightmares had not been nightmares at all.

They had been memories.

And in those memories was none other than Ulquiorra Cifer.

Looking at her with the same cold intensity, he walked forward until they stood directly parallel. She wanted nothing more than to scream but she could not. She could not move or scream or do anything. All she could do was stand there, as if she was an actress playing out a role. Finally he reached her. For a moment he just stood there, looking at her cooly. His eyes did not go up and down her body, they did not hover on her breasts like so many men's eyes did. They stayed locked on her face and for the life of her, Orihime could see no emotion in his eyes. He did not look like he knew or cared about her, or even that he knew and disliked her. He just looked at her like she was something he dealt with but had no standing in. Orihime tried to force her mouth to work, tried to get words past the tightness of her throat but none were coming up. He had made it clear he had known her but he had known her in the world of nightmares? Of places she had been sure were just dreams, not memories.

"Are you scared?" he asked, his voice cold, "You're useless to Aizen now. There's no one left to protect you. Its over. You will die alone here where no one can touch you," he stated everything with a cold, methodical tone as he moved forward until they were closer together. Close enough that he could touch her if he wished without straining his arm, "I asked you if you're scared."

Orihime screamed.

Bolting upright on the narrow bed in Urahara's house, Orihime continued to scream, her eyes squeezed shut as she buried her hands in her hair. It was too much. The coldness, the cruel words--how he had said everything as if telling someone they were going to die alone was not a big deal. How many nights had she wished that she could see the faces of the players in her nightmares? How many endless times had she tried to look up before she awoke gasping for air? And now she had, she had seen one of them but she would have given everything she owned to undo that wish. Something touched her. Orihime rammed her elbow up and back, slamming her elbow into their face to get herself free. She fell away from their grip, toppling of the bed before she got to her feet and threw herself against the wall. Gasping for air, she pressed her hands to the wall and lifted her head to the confines of the room. She could see Urahara standing in the doorway. But Ulquiorra was standing much closer.

There were too many differences between the man from her nightmarish memory and the man in front of her to count. But she had seen him before his outer shell broke and she knew that the two were the same. He had been there. He had been in the nightmares, in the memories. He had been there but not as a friend or protector. He had been there as her warden. He had been the one in charge of keeping there. She had sensed that he was accustom to keeping her safe but she had always assumed that it was because that he had done it before. But if he had it had been because he had to keep her safe for someone else's use. He had thought of her like a tool--like a puppet to be toyed with and used. Now he looked at her cautiously, like he did not understand what was going on but all Orihime could see was the cold way he had looked at her when he told her that she was useless, expendable--that she was going to die alone.

"Inoue," Urahara's voice drew her eyes towards him, "what's wrong? What did you see?"

For the life of her, Orihime could not make her fear clogged throat work well enough to form a reply.

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**Well its not like there could be Ulquihime if she didn't know about the whole imprisoned thing. I was writing this chapter and it kind of evolved from there. So now Orihime's a bit more caught up. I don't want this to turn into "everyone explains things to Orihime." **

**As for next time I've got four words: Ulquiorra gets a bath. **

**Thanks for all the reviews! You guys rocked out hard in reviewing last chapter and I'm hoping you're gonna do it again this time! You inspire me to write more, faster and we both know at the end of the day that's why you're here. For the story. **

**So remember if you want to know whose who, make it very clear. **

**And even if you don't, please review! **


	13. Emerald lTea Partyl

**I suck at art. **

**Seriously, I'm BAD at it. I don't doodle i write character sketches during class (and I bet you were all wondering how I update so fast). I have, however, had the great fortune to work with the artistically talented. Here are two I adore!**

**Frotu. The "Run" Doujinshi collab frotu and I are in the middle of is a followup to our sucessful "Come Back to Me" collab. If you like Ulquihime you all should go check out the project AND her deviantart page. **

**Rusky-Boz. Rusky-Boz is among my favorite Ulquihime artists. Like Frotu she's incredibly good at capturing a side of Ulquihime a lot of artists don't. And she drew something for ME!! THis picture is just heartbreakingly beautiful and should be looked at immediately. **

**My profile page has links to all of these. Just click my name at the top of the screen and scroll! **

**You should go look at these....**

**Oh who are we kidding, you want to see Ulquiorra in the bath, don't you?**

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The only sounds in the room were the harsh inhale and exhale of Orihime Inoue's terrified breaths.

Ulquiorra stared at the woman who pressed herself to the wall as if to put as much distance between herself and the world as possible. He had been a hunter enough times to know when the end of a fight was near, when the prey knew the end was at hand and did anything to get away. He did not realize how accustom he had become to Orihime's instinct to fight until she looked scared out of her wits. It was unsettling to see, especially since he was sure that even when she was scared she would never let him see it. But now he could see terror etched in every line on her face, from the harsh breath that escaped her lips to the wide, unblinking gaze that was locked on him. He had always been intrigued by her ability to hide her fear, especially when it came to the people holding her prisoner--himself included. Even when she had been at her most vulnerable, the emotions she went for were sorrow or being upset or even anger. But not fear, never fear and certainly not to the degree he now found himself faced with. Her fingers dug into the wood and Ulquiorra was sure that if he had been softer, they would have gone right through. She had not replied to Urahara's words, as if she was too scared to even speak.

The emotions on her face were crippling.

"Inoue--" Urahara began, moving forward which only caused her to shy back.

"Leave," the coldness of his voice surprised them all but Ulquiorra did not even turn to face Urahara, "now."

The scientist opened his mouth before closing it. He seemed to come to the same conclusion as Ulquiorra. With a nod, he turned and slipped out of the room, closing the doors firmly behind him. Now alone with her, Ulquiorra moved his gaze from her eyes to the rest of her. She was in a state of dissarray and her hair was odd from where she had raked her fingers through it. She looked more like an escaped asylum prisoner than the woman he knew her to be. A woman who understood emotion and people, who had been stronger than others had thought of her--even in her weakest moments. As he looked at her, Ulquiorra could not help but think that she would be better inclined to hande the situation. She was the one who had pulled Ichigo Kurosaki from his madness, who had stopped the blades of the Shinigami hell bent on vengance against any trace of Aizen's rule. She would have been able to handle a half crazed person. But he, he had no idea what to do with her. She had been the one to understand what people felt and, more importantly, how to deal with people lost in those emotions. He had no idea where to even begin. When there had been a purpose--a reason to control her he had worked off of that. Now there was none, no mission, no purpose, just a scared woman and him in the house of a scientist in the midst of self imposed exile.

"What did you see?" he asked finally, thinking that if he could get to why she looked at him like she did, he could deal with it.

She offered no reply, as if she was too overwhelmed to speak. Ulquiorra continued to look at her, waiting for her to reply. A knot twisted in his stomach as he looked at her. That kind of terror, the fact she was staring at him, all of it meant that she had seen him. He knew that her memories of their time together were anything but pleseant and yet the terror in her eyes could only mean that she had seen something terrifying and seen it copletely out of context. He had learned in turning their interactions over in his head that each built on the other. There were rules to how they had treated each other, fractured, twisted rules but rules none the less. By the time her friends had come to rescue her he had learned that it was far more effective to give her food without the threats because she had learned he would not follow through on them. And that if he spoke to her cooly but maintained a small measure of politeness she was far more likely not to break down sobbing or slap him across the face. But if she had remembered something later on, if she had remembered his actions during the fight with Kurosaki, then her terror was understandable.

Especially if she had seen Kurosaki.

That was the one time he had seen her look truly terrified. And it had not been because of him or of Aizen but because of the senseless, ruthles monster that Ichigo Kurosaki had beccome. A small, vengeful, petty part of Ulquiorra wished that that was the case, that her memories of her precious Kurosaki-kun were forever warped but the more practical part of him knew that she had seen him rather than the orange haired man. That was what held him there, that convinced him not to approach her but let her make it clear when she was ready to interact. Slowly her harsh, frantic breaths quieted, though the rest of her remained in its rigid position. Her fingers slackened against the wall, her body unable to support her. He knew the adrenaline was rapildy leaving her. Terrified or no she would not be able to put up much of a fight unless she found a way to summon it again. Even as he waited her muscles relaxed, the stiffness of her posture easing. He knew that soon she would be exhausted once more. But even as the adrenaline left her, as the instinct to fight or run ebbed away, her eyes never once left his. Not until the very last moment when they lowered to the ground, barely a breath before her knees buckled and she slid down the wall.

His movement forward was instinctual. Every bone in his body, every fibre of his being all said he had to get to her. That if he had no palace to protect, no army to fight, he stil had to protect her. The instinct overrode his own personal feelings about getting close to her. Uconscious, her touch had sent feeling through him he did not understand. Now that she was awake and scared, he had no idea what that would do to her--or to him. But before he knew it he had crossed the room. She sat on the ground, her knees bent and tucked against her, her hands in her lap. Her feet were overlapped, bare toes curled against the wood of the floor. Her eyes were closed tightly, her head tilted downwards. He slowed his approach when he got to her, his own legs bending as he knelt in front of her. The fabric of his hakama felt odd against his skin, pulled tight with the action of kneeling. He found though he could not hold the positon. The hypersensitivity extended to his knees, which were unable to support him against the hard ground. Adjusting his stance, he still kept them more or less level. he did not think towering over her was going to help what needed to be done.

"Aren't you going to say it?" she asked, her voice surprising them both. Ulquiorra looked at her as she opened her eyes. Once vacant, now they swam with emotion. He was silent, "well? Aren't you going to tell me that I'm going to die alone?" her voice cracked, "that i'm useless now?"

Inwardly Ulquiorra wondered why the universe was on a vendetta against him. It was not enough to drop her back here, back with him, after years of being separated. Nor, it seemed, was it enough to heighten the connection between them to the point where both were physically affected. No, whatever God hated him did it with enough vengence to allow her to remember him icily informing her that she was useless and going to die alone. If there had been a moment when he had truly hated Orihime Inoue, it was that one. Aizen had taken that mission away from him, for his own reasons of course but Ulquiorra could not help but see his own failure. He had not broken her, nor had he done a particularly good job in making sure her power was optimal for working with the Hogyoku. He had not known at the time that he had fulfilled Aizen's true purpose in bringing her down there. And faitlrue was not something Ulquiorra Cifer was particularly adept at handling. When he had gone to the throne room and he had seen her standing there, bringing the riot of color into the monochomatic world as only she could, he had been intent on making her suffer. And when she had faced his threats and insults with quiet, calm grace and faith in her friends, he had wanted nothing more than to destroy something, But he could not have broken her, not then--and now, if he had broken her--angrily he pushed the thought aside. It was not an option.

"All those nightmares--" she began, her voice still choked with emotion, "I thought they were just dreams but they--they were real!" her voice pitched, "I've been remembering all along and I didn't even know it--" she shook her head, "I'm so stupid!"

"Your memories are fragments," he told her, his voice surprisingly cool, "they are not complete. Your mind focuses on the moments with the strongest emotional affect on you."

"Why did you tell me those things?" Orihime asked, tearfully turning her eyes to him. He looked down, "you can't tell me--"

"I was upset," he said, struggling for things that would not trigger the reaction she had displayed, "and I did not handle my emotions well."

"I made you upset?" she looked at him, "you--you were the one imprisoning me!"

Ulquiorra's eyes widened at the accusation. She remembered that as well? So far her memories had been local, centered around events that had elicited the most emotion. But if she was remembering a general fact, like that he had imprisoned her, then perhaps the effects of their connection were wreaking havoc on her as well. The difference was that Ulquiorra could understand what was going on--in a cold, methodical way--but he had the peice of the puzzle none the less. Orihime on the other hand was as good as a blank slate. He could know what was going on but he could not understand it, not in the way that she did. And she could not know, not in the way that he could. How was he to explain to her why she had been imprisoned? If he had thought that ny good would come of the full explanation he would have tried to tell her, but informing her why--and how--he had taken her Las Noches would not get them anywhere. Not in her current state.

"Yes," he said.

"But why would you do that?!" she demanded, looking at him furiously.

"They were my orders," he told her, "to protect you."

"From what?"

He looked away, Telling her that he had been ordered to protect her from the Espada, from the War, that would lead to questions he could not answer. She knew it too, it was written all over her face. Her eyes that already leaked tears seemed to fill rapidly. Her bottom lip trembled as she looked down at her hands before looking at the door. She looked lost, lost and terrified. Perhaps this was what she had been saying about her friends helping to carry the burden of a heart. As long as she had thought they were coming for her she had ben able to face anything. Now she knew they were not. There was no prince coming to swoop in on a white horse to take her away like some fabled Princess. There was no escape, not anymore. Though when she buried her face in her hands and began to sob in earnest, Ulquiorra half wished that there was a magical way out.

"I'm sorry!" she confessed, her words stilted by the sobs that racked her frame, "i just--I don't understand and you can't even tell me if you work for the people who did this to me!" she sobbed harder, "I wanted to stay because--because I thought that if I remembered then everything would be better. But if I'm going to remember you like this--" she raised her tear streaked face to him, "then I don't want to remember anymore."

"What?"

The word slipped from his lips before he could stop it. That was why she did not want to remember? Disbelief filled him at the thought. He had helped her but he did not think she had felt that strongly about him. Enough not to want to regain her memories if they painted him as he truly had been when he had been her captor and she his charge. It was not that simple, not so black and white, but if her memories continued to return in this manner then he did not think that would be an issue. By the time she remembered anything that had made their relationship so difficult to define, it would all be tainted by her memories of him at his worst. Looking at her, Ulquiorra did not think that the thought should have bothered him as much as it did. But when she turned her tear filled eyes to him, thoughts of why or why not he was bothered by her perception of him fled from his mind.

"Y-you stayed," she elaborated, "Nel, Grimmjow--all of them kept running and yelling but you stayed with me. You kept me safe," she blinked, "I trusted you," she shook her head, trailing off helplessly.

She continued to cry but it was softer now. No desperate sobs or loud gasps for air. In some ways it was worse. He had known she would run out of energy for the first but this, this it seemed she could keep up for much longer. Tears trickled down her face as she looked down at the hands she cradled in her lap. Her eyes lowered as she looked further down as the last words played over in his mind. She trusted him. Over everything that he had done, she trusted him. Had she trusted him before? He doubted it but now---well now she did not. but before she had. The irony of it was not lost on him. When he had been cold and hard and far stronger she had trusted him. Now as a weak--whatever he was, she did not. He did not know how long he stayed there, crouched over her as she wept softly, only that when he went to move it felt as though every muscle in him had been turned to jelly.

When he tried to stand, his legs felt as if they could not support his weight. One of his hands pressed into the ground in an effort to support him. if he had thought the ground was hard on his knees, it was a hundred times worse on his hands. Without the all consuming thought of protecting her, all the aches and pains he had been ignoring suddenly came crashing into him. He could feel bruises from where they had grabbed him, aches from where his wrists had been bent back and up. His knees ached from where he had been slammed into the ground and his scalp throbbed from the fistful of hair that had been grabbed. His cheek throbbed as well from where she had elbowed him after he touched her when she had bolted upright screaming. Even the arm that he had pressed to the ground seemed to tremble, almost to the point where it would not support his weight. His other hand pressed into the ground in a failed attempt to take on some of his other arm's burden but it was fruitless, his arms could not support his weight.

"Ulquiorra!"

He almost hit her.

Her hands on his shoulder, the glimpse of color, it was almost too much to bear. Had the fracturing of his herriro gone deeper than that? He had felt the pull of emotions his entire life but it was always harder to control them when she was there. She had always been so open, so unlike him. As if emotions were things that could not get you into trouble--things not to be feared. She should have known better. She of all people. Who made foolish promises she could not keep because of things as stupid as emotion. Even now she pushed aside her own sorrow and fear because she was concerned for his well being. She did not remember what had happened between them or the desperate bargain she had made. All she remembered was that he had imprisoned her, told her that she was going to die alone and that she was useless. And even in the face of that she was worried for him. Worried enough to put her own feelings aside to make sure that _he_ was alright.

What a foolish woman.

"You're hurt," she gasped her voice still choked with emotion.

"I am fine," the lie was out of his lips before he could stop it, spoken with a voice that was anything but steady and cool.

Orihime stared at him.

She felt like a fool.

She'd been so wrapped up in her own misery, in the past, that she hadn't even realized that Ulquiorra had something profound happen to him. Something that had changed everything he was. And yet even with that he had pushed aside everything to make sure that _she_ was alright. All she had done was accuse him and yell at him and break down sobbing. But even with all that was happening she had been too wrapped in herself to realize that he was there, still covered in dust and bruises--half of which she had directly given him. Under her palm she could feel the dust that covered his shoulder and the warmth of his skin. He had been warm before but it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Orihime felt her brow furrow. He was almost too warm.

"You've got a fever," she said quickly turning her hand over and pressing the back of it to his too-hot skin. Quickly she scrubbed at her cheeks, trying to get rid of the tears.

He turned his head to look at her. The green eyes that had looked at her with such piercing clarity were foggy now. He had pushed himself too far. She had been unconscious and a sobbing mess but he had been awake. She could feel him tremble under her touch. She did not understand what was happening to him, nor did she think she could but that didn't matter. Not when he was in trouble. Raising her head, she looked at the door.

"Urahara!"

The scientist was in the room instantly, crossing the space to where Ulquiorra crouched and Orihime knelt. He quickly bent down and pressed a hand to Ulquiorra's forehead. It was a testament to how badly he felt that Ulquiorra did not even fix the scientist with a dirty look. Urahara drew back his hand and looked up at Orihime. Her face still bore the signs of her tears but when her violet grey eyes locked on his he only saw resolution to help in them. Whatever had transpired between them, whatever she thought of Ulquiorra, she was still determined to make sure he was alright. Urahara swore under his breath and looked at her.

"His body is adjusting," Ulquiorra said, "its probably the stress--we need to bring the fever down."

"How do we do that?" Orihime questioned.

**

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**

He looked terrible laying there.

His head rested against the back of the tub, eyes closed and lips parted as he breathed in and out. The rest of him was submerged in the lukewarm water. Urahara had kicked her out before he stripped him and put him in there and then he let her come back in. The fine layer of dust that had coated his skin was gone, revealing him to be actually quite pale, though Orihime supposed it made sense considering where they were. She knew she was there to keep him from truly falling asleep and drowning but from the look Urahara had given her when he'd brought her in, she had a feeling that he was trying to do something like, well, like matchmaking. Resting her head on her folded arms, she looked at his features. He seemed too lost in his own misery to even try to hold a conversation with her--not that he struck her as the type for idle chatter anyway. But she didn't want him falling asleep.

"So is Urahara a scientist?" she asked him.

"Yes," came the monosyllabic answer.

Orihime bit her lip as she looked up at him. She was very aware that Ulquiorra was not wearing any cloths. The dust that had washed off in the first tub full of water was gone, leaving behind water that was anything but obscured. But he looked so weak laying there, so confused that Orihime couldn't find anything enjoyable in the fact that he was laying naked in a tub. The only small reassurance she had was the fact that she could not feel it. Anytime his injuries had been life threatening, she had felt it. Looking at his face, Orihime wondered if that connection extended further than that. His weapon had been a surprise to the woman in the red armor, like it was supposed to be something different. And she had created that shield to save him. Could it be that their connection also encompassed whatever the strange things they could do?

"Did he make us this way?" she asked tentatively.

"No," Ulquiorra said, "he did not."

"Then," she looked up at the ceiling, "then someone else did it?"

"You are prying," Ulquiorra said, "I cannot tell you more--"

"Not until we find the orb," Orihime said with a sigh, closing her eyes, "i just--I hate feeling useless," she shook her head, "and that's all I feel lately. Its like everyone else knows things that I don't and I just--I can't keep up."

"You are not useless," Ulquiorra said. Orihime looked at him, not just because of the words but because of the tone. His words were softer, laced with regret, "and the only person who would fully understand what is happening is gone."

Orihime turned her head towards him sharply. He still lay there, head titled back and eyes closed but his words shot strait through her. The only person who could really know what was happening was gone? Did that mean that everyone else who had claimed to have an understanding--Orihime stopped herself. No-one had claimed to fully understand. They had said that there might be an explanation that they couldn't tell her, but they hadn't said they had all the answers. Just more than her and considering everything, that didn't take much.

"So you don't understand either then?" she ventured, "it only seems to work when we're in lots of trouble. Right now though you're sick and I feel fine."

"I am not sick."

The way he said it, as if the idea of _him_ getting sick was the most ridiculous thing the world, brought a smile to her lips. He was sick, though Urahara had said he was 'adjusting'. But everything from the pale skin to the sweat on his brow to the lukewarm water he was submerged in said that he was sick. But he seemed determined to deny it. As if admitting he was sick would be admitting some great flaw. Orihime felt her lips quirk up. It was actually quite endearing, cute even to think that someone as strong as Ulquiorra Cifer did not want to admit that he could get sick. Though his eyes were closed, Orihime pressed her lips together and tried desperately not to grin outright. Taking a deep breath, she fought down the urge to laugh at the displeasure in his tone.

"Of course not," she said with only the barest smile, "do you feel any better now?"

"I am fine," Ulquiorra replied, his voice taking on the cool tone she was beginning to think he used when he wanted her to think him emotionless.

"Well its good that you're not in any real danger," Orihime said looking at him, "I don't think I could take any more excitement today--" she looked over her shoulder, "or night--" she looked back at him, "its so confusing down here," he raised an eyebrow, "well its not that bad up there. There's a day and a night and there's things you do in each."

"What do you do during the day?" Ulquiorra asked finally.

"Well now, probably nothing. I'm most likely fired since we've been down here for--however long that's been. But, um, back in that world I work for Tuttle Publishing," at his blank look she continued, "its a publishing house. I work with authors," she grinned, "its funny, because I always thought I had crazy ideas--too crazy to even been fantasy!" her tone turned slightly serious, "but they're real," she stopped herself at the melancholy tone. Ulquiorra was sick and he'd pushed aside everything to make sure she was okay. She had to do the same for him, "it was a fun job though. I liked working with the authors. I made sure their books were all set to go to print--"

Orihime trailed off when she saw his lips twitch, as if he too was fighting down a smile. She wondered if it was amusing that she worked with authors or if it was something else she didn't quite understand. It was odd how something as simple as an almost-smile transformed him. He didn't seem stoic or old, he seemed young. Like he could be her age even. She could still see the faint trace of cyan on his cheeks but even that did not damper the effect of the quirk of his lips. Orihime felt her own lips curve up in a smile as she looked at him. His color was still pale but he did look a bit better.

"I'm gonna check to see if you have a fever," Orihime said, reaching out.

He must not have understood what she was going to do. The moment the back of her hand touched his forehead, his own hand was out of the water, wrapping around her wrist. His emerald eyes had snapped open and locked on hers. Orihime inhaled sharply at the sensation. His grip was weak but not as weak as it should have been. He even felt cooler to her touch. But his eyes--his eyes were what she could not look away from. They had always been haunting, bright even but when his skin had been chalk white it had been hard to notice. but now, framed by pale but normal skin, they were hauntingly bright. Orihime found it impossible to look away.

And then it happened.

His eyes changed. Gold irises were framed by bright green sclera. The cyan lines were gone, replaced by thick ebony lines as if he was weeping out the darkness inside him. The hand on her wrist was not human. It was ebony and instead of nails there were talons, talons that could rip her to pieces with no effort. His skin was bone white again but without the clothing she could see a massive hole in his chest. His legs were black as well and though she did not look down, she knew his feet were taloned as well. Massive black wings spread from his shoulders and it took her a moment to realize the soft sound behind her was a tail--his tail. His helmet was gone as well, replaced by a pair of white horns. Orihime felt the now familiar weight of her hair and the white dress she wore--a dress that was now torn and dirty, as if she had been in a fight.

The weariness and aches were back, just as they had been when the woman in the red armor had been there. She could hear harsh breaths behind her and she knew they were not alone on the white dome. But just as she was not tired or achey anymore, the relief she felt was not hers. Not really, not now. But here in this time, in this memory, the relief was crippling. As was the emotion and confusion in his eyes. Her eyes were full of tears, but they were not tears of sorrow or pain, they were tears of relief. Relief that _he_ was there. She felt removed, like she was a puppet being put through the steps of a play she did not know. She wanted to move away, to see who else was there but in the memory or dream or whatever it was, the relief was so great that before she could stop herself she had broken his hold, buried her face in his chest and began to sob against him.

"You came back!" the words were hysterical and punctuated by her loud and desperate sobs, "you came back!" the sobs came faster now, "I'm sorry," her voice caught with the torrent of emotion, "I'm so sorry!"

Another blink and she was back in the room with Ulquorra in the bath. His hand was still around her wrist and their eyes were still locked. It took all she had not to jerk away but from the surprised look in his face, he knew that something had happened. Orihime stared down at him. The relief she felt, all the emotions involved in him coming back--it was more than she could understand. She had been so sure that he had been something bad imprisoning her but after what she saw, she realized that she had cared for him. Twisted, crazy--whatever the reason she had cared about him. He had gone somewhere, somewhere she had been sure she would never see him again. Sure enough to the degree that the relief she felt at his return was crippling. A small part of her said that he had looked different, frightening even but the rest of her was still lost in the emotions she had felt seeing him like that. Looking at him now she found she could hardly separate the twin storms of emotion. She could still see the fever in his gaze, though he was fighting it.

"I think your fever's going down," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady as she slowly withdrew her hand from his forehead and grasp, "but you should probably stay here for a bit just to make sure."

He seemed to know not to press her for information on what she had just seen. A part of her wanted to go for the door and put distance between them but for the life of her she could not make her feet move away from him. The pull to be near him was stronger than she had ever felt before. Instead of going for the door, she settled back against the tub. He made no comment as she crossed her arms and looked out at the wall before her eyes went to him, needing to make sure that he was still there. As if his presence was not something she just wanted but something she needed, as much as she needed to breathe. For some reason the idea of needing another person so profoundly did not make her upset--certainly not as upset as she thought it would. Not if it was Ulquiorra.

Sitting there quietly, she tried not to think about how cold her skin felt without his hand on it.

* * *

**Not as dirty as you thought right? Don't worry that'll be coming....wait, what? **

**Anyway now that you've read the chapter please go to my profile and look at the pretty art that people drew! **

**Also remember, if you want to know whose who, leave it in your review or PM me and let me know. Really make it clear though, I don't want to spoil anyone whose doesn't want the spoilers. **

**As always, please please review! You guys were so freakin awesome last time with the reviews! Really, you make me want to write more, faster. Remember when you review, I update! Think of it as your reviews being my inspiration to update. **

**So please please review! **


	14. Halcyon Days lTea Partyl

**A real update?!**

**What?!**

**yes I know, keep the jaws up. First a few notes:**

**1. Anonymous readers who want to know whose who, YOU MUST LEAVE ME CONTACT INFORMATION! I'm happy to tell you but I don't want to spoil for people who don't want to know. So leave me a way to contact you.**

**2. Voting is underway at the dotmoon ufo awards. You don't have to be a member. VOTE FOR THE STORY. Its under in progress fics. **

**In case it is not painfully obvious, the past week or so has been filled with the immature antics of thirteen year old fans who probably got swept away in the Nick Simmons warpath. So let me just say this once and for all: I don't want to deal with the stupid dramatics of this fandom! Seriously i don't. I am here to write. I get involved if and when I feel that things are getting out of hand but the fact that I've had to deal with this overly dramatic crap TWICE this week just makes me want to tell all the immature, dramatic fangirls to grow the fuck up and log off the computer. **

**Now back to the story. **

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"I must not have been here for very long."

From his position next to her on the porch, Urahara looked over at the young woman. After Ulquiorra's fever had lowered, they had moved him from the bath to the bed. Despite his faint protests, he had gone to bed and fell asleep almost faster than he could say "I am not sick". As if the sickness he felt overwhelmed even his desire to deny the fact. Sick was, sick was probably the wrong word for what Ulquiorra was. he was transforming, changing and his sickness was not actual sickness it was his Spiritual Power changing. The fact that neither he nor Orihime seemed to truly understand that was a major warning sign, one that only he seemed to be aware of. Uahara turned the pipe in his hand over in his fingers, looking at the brass of the pipe. Strange, really, to think that of the three of them he was the one who had the best grasp of what was going on. But, then again, to a certain degree that had always been the case.

So was the burden of genius.

Maintaing his silence, Urahara packed and lit the pipe, taking a deep breath of the stuff. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Orihime make a face, as if the idea of smoking was somehow foul to her. When she realized his gaze was on her, she blushed and ducked her head, mumbling an apology like a guest who had offended their host. Urahara felt a smile tug at his lips. He knew he should not have found joy at the situation. At the fact that even as he sat next to the woman, the person that he had known was so far away she was now real and truly unreachable. Strange, to think that he had been the one who had helped tweak the technology further to make it do to her what it had. Taking another long drag off the pipe, he let the burning of his lungs rise up until the comforting warmth of the drug had filled him to the very brim. Exhaling the smoke, he leaned his head back and looked at the darkness. There were no answers here, no more than there were anywhere else in the god forsaken place that he found himself in. The place that he had chosen to come to.

"Does the smoke bother you?" he asked, ignoring her question entirely.

"Not really," she said, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them. He raised an eyebrow, "no more than anything else around here," she corrected herself, "you can smoke if you want. This is your home."

"I never did used to smoke," Urahara said, blowing out a stream of the smoke to contradict what he had said, "I always hated it," he shrugged, "my father--adopted father actually--he smoked."

"Well maybe that's why you do it," Orihime said, "maybe its comforting to you. Did you like him? Your adoptive father, I mean."

"I liked him well enough," Urahara said, "where I come from, if you're born into poverty like I was, our military is really the only chance at a--" he smiled widely, "at a life. I was a weak kid, the kind that got beat up a lot. I liked him because he, quite literally, saved me from the life I was in."

"Wow," Orihime said, "he sounds--"

"He was a man who knew what he wanted," Urahara said, "and he knew how to get it," he exhaled more smoke, "its surprising how rarely those two actually come together."

Orihime smiled at the no nonsense way he said it.

"So do you find it comforting?" she asked again.

"I suppose I do," Urahara said looking at the ornate pipe, amusement showing on his face.

His adoptive father had always smoked and drank in excess when he had accomplished something. Urahara supposed that if he truly was trying in some way to emulate the man then he should not only be under the influence of the smoke, he should be very drunk as well. After all, he had just accomplished something well and truly great. And to think he almost hadn't because he had been intent on his invention not falling into the 'wrong' hands. But beyond those walls was real and tangible proof that power was neither good nor evil, it was a tool. A tool to be wielded and wielded it had been. By his hand, by Aizen's and the Commander Generals--hell maybe if there was a God, he'd had a hand in it to. Because what lay beyond the walls of the structure he had been calling home was something unlike anything that walked the earth. A laugh bubbled from his lips. And to think, all of that was born out of a Vasto Lorde and a bet he'd made with the Goddess of the Flash herself fueled by both their egos. Even he could appreciate the irony of the situation at hand.

But what lay beyond those walls was something truly special.

He had spent his life trying to bend the fabric of what could and could not be done. He had thought that he'd be remembered by his inventions and what they could do. If he had been asked a day ago--was it a day? hard to tell down here--he would have said the 'untraceable gigai' was his legacy, that deceptively simple yet infinitely powerful tool that allowed wanted criminals to escape and saved lives. He had always thought that his inventions were all about what he could do with his hands, his incredible hands that were able to make wonders. He had never considered that the real key to miracles was something he could not explain, something he could not define. That his legacy was not a gigai he had created, that it was not as simple as an experiment done in a lab with an end result. No, this was something truly incredible. An experiment done over hundreds of years with so many people that Urahara had a feeling the lab report would look like something out of a nightmare. Smiling he breathed in the smoke and looked over at the young woman sitting next to him before turning his gaze once more to the small house that housed not only his legacy but that of so many others. That was what Aizen had been after, the powers of a God. And where had they fallen? Right into Urhara's lap.

"You seem very happy," Orihime said and Urahara realized he was grinning like an idiot.

"What happened to Ulquiorra is incredible," he said before he could stop himself, "truly it is. When others find out about this the ramifications--"

"What did happen to him?" Orihime asked timidly.

"You did," Urahara said, too excited to choose his words carefully, "he was made thanks to an experiment _I_ did, one that was abused by another, but neither of us could have possibly realized that the missing ingredient was, well, was you," her eyes widened impossibly and he realized how crazed that must have sounded, "I mean," he shook his head, "not what you can do with the gold light--though I imagine that is a part of it--I well and truly mean _you_. You were always the missing piece of the puzzle. But," he laughed outright, "to think that it was _Ulquiorra_ who reaped the benefits. That is an irony even I can appreciate."

"Benefits?!" Orihime cried, "he's--he's a--" she fumbled for the right word, "well whatever he is, he's going to be in a lot of trouble when the others find out. Isn't this place at war?"

"Yes it is. And what Ulquiorra can do, when his Spiritual Power finishes converting, that is going to change the face of the entire battlefield," he said, "what he will be able to do--" he shook his head, "it is going to be unlike anything the others are ready for."

As she looked at him, Orihime could not help but wonder if that was really a good thing.

Inside the house, Ulquiorra woke to the flickering lights in Urahara's house.

He felt light.

That was the only way to describe it really. Light in the head but light in his body as well, He had never thought of his hierro had weighed him down but now he felt as if he could float away. Even though he was laying flat on his back, he felt as if he could float away. He did not dare lift his head. He had a feeling that if he tried to sit up, he could very well vomit--despite not having anything in his stomach. His body ached as well and his head felt as though it was trying to escape. He could hardly blame it, he wanted to be anywhere else as well. Worse though was the feeling of being afraid. He had not seen any mirrors in Urahara's house and he was not sure he wanted to but he did know that if he lifted his hand or turned his wrist over, he would be able to see the skin that was now exposed. Rationally he had known that the hierro was toughened skin, hardened by the Spiritual Pressure that existed in the area. But he had not thought that there was skin underneath it--and perhaps there was not for the other Hollows.

Hollows he was no longer like.

Everything still felt hypersensitive and he was beginning to think that that would be the case for a while. He would wonder if this was what it was like to come alive but the thought was ridiculous in itself. You could not create life from death. Hollows, Shinigami--even the Vizards all blurred the line. They were not alive but nothing was ever truly dead. They could be hurt, they could be killed, all to enter an endless cycle. Was what was happening to him just another part of that cycle? Was he simply moving from one place to another? He remembered, vaguely, the early days of being a Hollow, when he had been ruled by panic and fear. His memories had been there. He remembered his life, he remembered his family, his friends, a life he had desperately clung to even as claws dug into his flesh and dragged him to the place he had resided in ever since. The memories had faded, as memories tended to do, lost to the seemingly never ending tide of blood and survival. Survival that pulsed through him like a living, beating heart. Kill or be killed. The strongest survived and became Vasto Lordes, consuming other Souls but not being taken over by them.

Would he remember more now?

Orihime's memories, however disjointed and sporadic, certainly seemed to indicate as much. Ulquiorra did not like the idea. He had spent a great deal of time and effort to make himself cold. To push down and away any emotion. It was impossible to be emotional when you dragged away your prey, screaming and wailing prey that prayed and begged for their families and their God. And one did not serve Aizen by giving into emotional whims. Control, that was what it was a matter of. Control and sacrifice. He had sacrificed and he had his control but that control--that control had been fractured before by the sunset haired woman sitting just outside of the house. The way she had stared at him, her eyes so wide and so full of fear, it was seared into him. And her words echoed constantly in his head. How she did not want to remember if she remembered him as he was. As the Arrancar that had kidnapped and imprisoned her. Who threatened her with IV's and torture if she did not eat. She would remember him, all that he had been, but if she continued to do so in the way she was--then he had a feeling she was not going to like him very much.

He did not know why the idea bothered him.

Taking a deep breath, Ulquiorra slowly moved his hand under the sheets. The fabric was rough, scratchy even across the sensitive skin. The back of his hand, it was sensitive now. Moving his hand further, he slid it around under the fabric, slowly withdrawing it from the sheet and moving it upwards. The air hit his skin, feeling oddly cold and sharp at the same time. Fighting the urge to inhale quickly, Ulquiorra twisted his writ first one way, then the other. His muscles were sore. How long had been since he had been sore? A very long time. Slowly he brought his hand forward, until it was in his range of vision. The skin was bathed by the candlelight, the flickering lights playing across the skin. The dust could no longer provide its feeble illusion, it had been lost to the water of the bath. There was nothing to hide the nauseatingly pale and soft skin that stretched over his bones and tendons and muscles. Nothing to offer the semblance of the lie that he was powerful and strong and capable of defending both himself and the people he had been ordered. When he flexed his fingers he could see the tendons move. If he cut himself he would bleed. Everything he was, everything he had been so sure of was gone.

It was enough to send him into waves of nausea all over again.

He pressed his hand to his forehead, his fingers pressing into his eyeballs. If he ripped one out now, would he be able to replay memories? Or would he be blind? Laying there he wasn't sure there was much of a difference. Sliding his hand across his cheek, he pulled it back and looked at his fingers and palm. There was no blue there, no bright color that had once been on his cheek. But he knew that even as he touched the skin and his hand came away clean, the blue lines were long since gone. Washed away with the rest of the creature he had been before. Still stubbornly he felt as if he was that creature. Somewhere inside he had become accustom to being an Arrancar, to being a Hollow, to maintaining the illusion of being cold, emotionless. A part of him had been sure that if he was cold for long enough, if he exerted enough control, one day he truly would stop feeling. He imagined that at some point he had been close, but that could just have been the vanity of hindsight. Dropping his hand to the bed, he felt his wrist hit the scratchy fabric once more, his skin protesting the feeling of the thing even as his mind desperately fought to silence the thoughts that tumbled through his head.

"You look _terrible_."

Ulquiorra fought back a wave of nausea. Just the voice, that accented, lilting, grammar butchering voice was enough to make him feel sick. A part of him argued that this was not real, that it could not be real. But just as he thought that, another part of him argued that if there was a man, nay, a being capable of tricking the entirety of Soul Society, it was the man who spoke to him now. Even as he kept his eyes closed he heard the familiar whisper of fabric, accented by the crack of joints. He did not need to open his eyes to see the figure who stood there, to know the smile that played across his features and the slit of his eyes. He did not need to open his eyes and yet he did so anyway.

He regretted the decision immediately.

The first thing he was aware of was the cloths. He still wore white, perfect, unblemished white. Ulquiorra was fairly certain that they were not the clothes he had worn in the battle but, then again, he knew it was entirely possible that they were. The next thing he became aware of was the expression on the face. The grin was still there but Ulquiorra would have been shocked if it was not. His eyes were still slitted, hair still long enough to get in his features as he grinned at Ulquiorra. When he had first met the man, Ulquiorra had been sure that much escaped his eyes. But it had quickly became clear that not only did he see exceptionally well, he saw in a way that most people did not. Despite the flickering of the candles and the covering of the blanket, Ulquirora had no doubt that the man in front of him not only knew what was going on but was very _very_ amused by it as well. As if to confirm his suspicion, the grin widened almost to impossibility as the man turned around to fully face Ulquiorra.

"Oh don't get up on my behalf," he said clasping his hands together in front of him and Ulquiorra realized he had been positioning his hands to do just that," after all, its not as though you had any to begin with."

"W--"

"Why am I here?" there was no sound to accompany the movement. One moment he was halfway across the room and the next he was in front of him, one foot pressing onto the bed as he leaned one forearm across his knee and pressed his elbow into his upper thigh, resting his head on his chin, "isn't that obvious by now?" he leaned forward, "I am liking this new look of yours," he said, "makes you seem very manly."

"Go away," was all Ulquiorra could manage.

"Hmm," he appeared thoughtful for a moment, "perhaps, after I pay a visit to our sunset Princess?"

The adrenaline that hit him was enough to override the spinning of his head and the weakness in his limbs. He sat up faster than he would have thought, faster probably than the man with the knee on his bed would have as well. One of his hands streaked out but between the fatigue, illness and adrenaline it missed its target. The man was gone in a flash, appearing instantly once more. This time he was on the windowsill, feet pressed into the bedding. Uqluiorra felt it dent under his weight as he pressed his hands to the sill on either side of his body. Ulquiorra turned towards him, his hand falling to his side as he pressed his other palm to the sheet, forcing himself to remain upright. He felt hot and cold at the same time and it took him a moment to realize that in addition to his breathing being labored and his heart racing, now sweat was stark on his brow and back. Despite his anger, a dull thud of horror went through him. He was sweating.

"You're sweating," the man vanished and reappeared on the bed, so close that Ulquiorra could see the lashes on his slitted eyelids, "and you're burning up. Whatever you're becoming you're becoming it fast."

Cat like, the man cocked his head to the side, his smile slipping as he opened his eyes fully to look at Ulquiorra. They were the color of rubies and fresh blood--blood that he had spilled so easily. Blood that Ulquiorra remembered he too had been so good at spilling once upon a very long time ago. He had no doubt that the silver haired, ruby eyed man who crouched across from him was capable of ripping him to shreds. What he was not sure of was if he would be able to do anything to fight him--or even if he wanted to. If he could not fulfill his orders, his purpose, then what good was there in existing at all? The way that Urahara had looked at him, as though he was the answer to some long posed question, like he was the resolution to an impossible riddle, it made him think that the best he could look forward to was that he would be the reason a blond scientist undeserving of redemption was given it. If that was his life, what point was there in living at all--if living was in fact the right way to describe what he was doing. His feelings must have shown on his face because instantly the grin and slitted eyes were back.

"Don't look so blue," the man taunted happily, "that caring ain't very nihilistic of you."

The man vanished and reappeared at his earlier position with one foot on the bed, knee bent and arms folded on top of it.

"Don'tcha just love those good and helpful people. Always stickin their noses where they shouldn't. Always caring, always trying to save even if they ain't asked," he shook his head, features shadowed for a moment in memory before his head rose and locked with Ulquiorra, "just look at your girl. Brought you back, made that deal and where'd it get you? You're turning into something you sure as hell ain't supposed to be turning into and she wouldn't know me if I slapped her cross the face," he leaned forward with apparent interest, "so does she still freak if you mention something bad? Cause I _heard_ that the Kido they worked on her is a piece of art."

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. The man in front of him had, at some point, been a member of Soul Society. Even if his loyalty was probably not for them he had still been with them. And given Urahara's inclination for secrets and his for riddles, Ulquiorra had a feeling that there was a way to use the situation to his advantage.

"She reacts," Ulquiorra admitted finally, "physically--"

"Nope," he said with a grin, "not physically. _Powerly_."

"That is not a word."

"its her powers!" he said, "they obviously bound them and made it so whatever would trigger her to remember how to use them would make her pass out before that happened," he leered forward, "unless, of course, you were in trouble and she did it on instinct alone, then she'd be fine."

"I did not think the news would reach you so soon," Ulquiorra said.

"Everything reaches me," he said, "and I reach it," he shook his head with mock sadness, "its a vicious cycle."

"But why would they bind her powers?" he asked.

"Because of what she did with them," came the reply, "bringing you back--like you are now--they probably saw her as a threat," he grinned wider, "and you know how those self righteous little fucks are now _all_ about the preventative measures."

"Preventative measures?" Ulquiorra repeated, dumbfounded, "she did nothing wrong."

"She brought an Arrancar back to life--she brought an Espada back to life," he said resting his hand on his chin, "remember you were sworn enemies back then--and maybe you still are. What are you two exactly?" he pressed his hands together, "is it complicated?"

"I--"

"Ehh whatever," he said with a shrug, "with you two it always was complicated. Told him that from the moment he put you two together. He always believed that emotionless 'they're all trash' bullshit you spewed," he grinned and shrugged offhandedly, "course I never did. you can't bullshit someone who does it better than you."

Ulquiorra glared at the man who crouched on his bed. He looked at him with a smile. He had never thought that Aizen 'bought' what he said, not that it had been in the forefront of his mind. Aizen had never struck him as a man that particularly cared about what people thought or how they felt. What he cared about was how they acted. The arrangement had suited Ulquiorra perfectly. He could and did feel, think--sometimes without any sort of control. Even though he fought as hard as he could to have control. But his actions had always been perfect. Perfect and predicable and everything that Aizen had expected and valued in his Espada, in his followers.

"My feelings were and are irrelevant," Ulquiorra said cooly.

"Saw that already and, spoiler alert, it ends with you freaking out and unleashing all that emotional drama on someone else," he took a step back, "glad it won't be me," he grinned, "see ya round, Ullquiorr--"

"Ulquiorra?"

Panic stabbed through him at the almost tentative call of his name. The man's smile widened as he turned to the door. All the former Espada could think was that she was going to come in, come in and see the man here and he would trigger something that would have her on the ground once more. He did not think, not logically, not coldly as his body reacted on pure instinct. In retrospect he would never know why Urahara had felt the need to put Murcielago so close to him, whether it had been because of the fragile bond thanks to his fluctuating powers or because he knew that they would get visitors like the one he had. But his hand easily closed around the smooth surface, fingers finding a grip as if it had always been the weapons he wielded. Instantly he was out of bed and on his feet, his hand drawing back as he brought the weapon forward and around as the doors slid open.

He hit something.

He felt the sensitive skin of his hands protest sharply at the feeling of impact. But while he felt that way, the next instant after the moment of impact the staff swung wildly in its arc as the impact he was exerting met nothing but air. He barely managed to stop the arc of the staff before it hit his shoulder. But the brief moment of impact, that brief jar of his staff on his skin was enough to confirm that he had, in fact, hit something. His balance was thrown off, his hand ached but by the time the door slid fully open and allowed her to come inside, the only things that looked out of place were the fact that he was standing and the fact that he was holding a weapon. But still when she came into the room, her eyes widened as she quickly crossed the space between them, questions tumbling from her lips.

"Why are you out of bed?!" she asked, "and you're all flushed and sweaty--what happened to you? Why are you holding a weapon?!"

"I--" Ulquiorra began before realizing that he had no good explanation for what was happening, "there is nothing going on."

Orihime opened her mouth, probably to tell him she was not buying that for one second. But the emotions in Ulquiorra were too great. He tried to push them aside, push them down, to tell himself that her ignorance was just that. But the words, the taunts, they echoed in his head. His standing there, as he was, _everything_ that had happened was her fault. She had done this, as surely as if she had been the one who pushed the orb through his chest. in the throne room back then. Not just her power but her words had done it as well. They'd made the deals that brought them to where they stood. It was because of _her_, because of their connection--a connection that was one no-one understood. Bitterness filled him at the thought. He felt like a chess piece being played by someone who knew the game--a game he did not understand. The experiment that he had been a part of, all the things that they had done to make sure--he had thought it had all ended with Aizen's defeat. He had been _sure_ that all the experiments that had been cut short had ended with him.

He was an idiot.

Eyes widening, Ulquiorra brushed past her as he walked out of the room. Adrenaline pounded through him, erasing any semblance of weariness or soreness. He crossed the narrow room and pushed open the doors that led to the balcony. Urahara was still sitting there, pipe in hand, as he looked out at the darkness. He did not even turn as Ulquiorra strode out onto the balcony, fixing the scientist with his gaze.

"I know who brought her here."

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**Okay first off since its obvious who the red eyed, silver haired man is, i'll tell you right now I am part of the school of thought that believes the character has red eyes not blue-green. Because lets face it, red eyes are badass.**

**So was he really there? Or was it a figment of Ulquiorra's imagination? And now you've got a bit more of an idea for why Ulquiorra's like this but we'll get more into that later. **

**Remember if you want to know who the new wonderland/hm characters are then PLEASE make it clear in your review and/or PM. Anonymous people, remember to give me contact info please!  
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**Next time Ulquihime goes on the road! **

**Please PLEASE review! You review, i update (with real chapters mind you)! **

**So please review! **


	15. Silver and Cold

**Okay!**

**First off, sorry about the delay. Life, chaos, you know, the usual. And also huge sorry for whatever strangeness was happening with the server, this chapter got eaten. But now (hopefully) its here. **

**Next since so many of you are Ulquihime fans (and may or may not have read Saints and Sinners) but i thought that you all should see the amazing piece that was done by Randomfish32. This art is for Saints and Sinners but since you're all Ulquihime fans I thought you should totally be informed. Also because I don't know when Saints and Sinner's is going to be updated. This piece is called "Ulquiorra, Piano" and you can either go to HER deviantart page or you can follow the link on my profile that says "fan art" to MY deviantart page! Raondomfish32 does very pretty pencil art and colorings and her page should deff. be looked at.**

**Also a huge big thank you to the people who nominated and seconded December, Underground for the 2010 UFO awards. Fingers crossed I finish this story off and we get to move to the Bleach category for finished works in 2010. as for 2009 PLEASE go vote for this or any of the other stories I did at the UFO awards.**

**Oh and remember, if you want to know who everyone is and their Wonderland counterpart then please lemme know in your review and/or you can PM or IM me.**

**Now back to the story!**

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Ulquiorra paced back and forth along the confines of the balcony. Sitting in a chair, Urahara watched the former Espada walk back and forth, agitation written all over his face. Without the hardened skin, his emotions showed far more clearly on his face. His head was tilted upwards as he looked at the darkness, listening to the sound of Ulquiorra's feet against the wood of the balcony. They were soft, quiet even since his soles were no longer hard or particularly tough. Still it was amusing to hear Ulquiorra move across the balcony, agitation in his every move. He had not sensed n

"Hmm," Urahara pressed his lips together, contemplating Ulquiorra's words, "i suppose that does make sense.'"

"No," Ulquiorra said, "no he is supposed to be dead."

"He disappeared Ulquiorra, he didn't die."

"He disappeared because of an attack," Ulquiorra said, "not simply because he was 'bored' with the battle."

"Oh I imagine that it was a combination of the two," Urahara said lightly with a smile, "after all, he did seem rather bored towards the end of the battle."

Ulquiorra glared at him. Urahara fought back a smile. Soul Society had always viewed Gin as un-likable, strange and creepy. But from what he could gather, once he left Soul Society Gin's disposition and power had infuriated the Espada. If Urahara had to bet, he'd say fear had something to do with it. But it was a common thing about warriors--the Espada especially, that when faced with fear they immediately jumped to anger. And Uquiorra did not just look angry, he looked livid. Mostly, Urahara was just glad that he was out of bed. He could feel very little power coming from the former Espada but there was power there. Soon there would be much more. If he had his way, he'd make sure the two of them were as powered up as they could be but he knew that neither would sit by. Not when there was a chance they'd be able to get back what they had lost by fulfilling a deceptively simple request. Even now Ulquiorra looked as if he'd throw himself off the balcony if it meant he'd be able to get out of what he was.

"There is nothing that can be done about it," Urahara said, "and the more you try the more he's gonna play with you," Ulquiorra glared, "exactly," the scientist said, as if he had been given a reply. Slowly he stood up, pushing himself to his feet with a groan, "now we have to get you two ready."

"To do what?"

"To get Tia her orb of course," Urahara said. Ulquiorra stared at him, "you two aren't going to be able to solve anything by hiding out here. And I know neither of us has a great track record as problem solvers but, well, time to change what can be changed."

"So you do not think we should wait?" Ulquiorra said.

Urahara looked over at the former Espada, at the culmination of a lifetime's work. Everything that he had not known he had set out to do, standing right in front of him. And Orihime, the missing ingredient, the one factor that no-one had counted on. She was there too, just behind the thin walls of the house that he had exiled himself to. He had wards and protections up but they weren't designed to handle what was happening. And, if one person had found them, then it was only a matter of time before others did as well. And there was no guarantee that they would be bargained with like she had. Especially not if they were Shinigami. It was only a matter of time before they found them. And when they did, Urahara preferred if the two of them were not there.

"I don't think waiting is a choice anymore," he said, "now let me think of what we can do for disguises for you two."

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"Is this really necessary?"

Urahara bit back a smile at the inquiry voiced from the other side of the screen. On the other side, Orihime held the fabric at an arm's length, examining the garment and wondering again what was possibly wrong with her old cloths. She did not want to be rude, but even she could see that what she was supposed to do was going to be made much harder by being in, well, a dress. A practically strapless one no less, since the thin ebony straps looked as though they would not be the primary means of support for the garment. Biting her lip, Orihime pressed the dress to her chest and looked down doubtfully. The dress would come to right above her knee and if the fabric's cut was any indication, it would swish outwards. Swish and poof and, and--Orihime lowered her hands and turned to the screen to see Urahara's form still there.

"Aren't I supposed to be finding the orb?" Orihime said.

"Yes."

"Well wouldn't that be easier in pants?" she asked.

"Not if you want everyone to immediately know you came from another world," Urahara told her.

"Everyone seems to know that already," Orihime pointed out, her fingers undoing the buttons of the back of the dress.

"Yes but since Ulquiorra is, well, you know now," Urahara said with a wave of his hand, "if we can give you two a bit of a disguise it'll be much better for both of you."

Orihime let out a breath before stepping into the dress. Bunching up the fabric, she did the buttons up before spinning the garment around. Apparently wherever they were, zippers were not really a part of the clothing. Settling the dress on her chest, she slipped the thin black straps up her arms and fixed them on her shoulders. Swishing out the fabric of her skirt, she looked down doubtfully and tried not to groad too loudly. The dress was just above her knee, the skirt did poof out and when she moved it swished softly. She felt like a runaway from a time long past. Honestly, did they expect her to be able to fight in this? Without giving people a lovely show of what she wore underneath? Oh she was certain that if it was in the middle of the fight, modesty would be the last thing on her mind but standing in the makeshift dressing room looking down at the dress, she could not help but think she was dressed very incorrectly for the occasion.

Whatever that occasion happened to be.

The dress was white, edged in black along the hem. Though the fabric nipped at the waist, the thick black sash was tied lower, almost around her hips. The same black fabric edged the top of the dress, where the neckline was actually rather modest considering it was a strapless dress. It did not dip but rose across her chest, hiding most of her cleavage. The black straps were narrow and seemed more like an afterthought than a part of the dress itself. It was held up by the dress itself. She could not see them but knew the narrow line of ebony buttons was visible, spanning from the top of the dress to just above the base of her spine. Her hair was as bright and jarrining against the bright color as it had been in the memories that kept tugging at her. Barefoot, she looked at the screen that separated her from the rest of the room. Instead of heading towards it, she turned and walked over to the window that was set into the wall. Taking a deep breath, she set her hands on the sill and looked out at the darkness that stretched before her.

Everything kept happening so quickly and with such intensity that she felt as if she'd barely had a moment to think or breathe, much less to think about the strange things that were happening to her. There had been no car accident, no driver, but that did not mean that there was not a singular person to blame for what had happened--for whatever that had been. It was so tempting to stay there, to be locked inside the small house with the blonde man and the emerald eyed--whatever Ulquiorra was. It was safe here, as safe as anywhere had been. But if she indulged the idea of staying, she knew she'd come up with a hundred reasons not to leave on some foolish errand for a woman who wore red battle armor. And there were so many _many_ reasons not to go. But even as she thought briefly about the reasons to stay, she knew she would not. Because the one reason to leave would always trump everything else.

Answers.

Somewhere out there, there were the answers to why she was this way. Why all these people were so interested in what she could do. Why she felt so many strange things when Ulquiorra was there. If she found the orb that the woman wanted, if she delivered it to her she was going to be able to unlock her past. If the woman had said she'd do it, Orihime never would have believed her. But she had said that Orihime could do it. Well, there was a time when Orihime was sure she wouldn't have believed that either. But after all she had seen, she had to believe that there was a way to do it. To fix what was happening. And if she could do that by finding an orb, by making this woman happy, then she'd do it gladly. Because it wasn't just about her anymore. Ulquiorra too was connected to everything. And if she was able to help herself, then she could help him too instead of him always having to make sure that she was alright.

Standing and wishing wasn't going to do anything. Not when they had so much to do. Urahara seemed like he was in a rush to get them out of there, as if there was some invisible time limit that was almost up. Orihime didn't know if that was true, but she did know she wasn't going to second guess the blond man after all that had happened. Turning around, she walked past the screen, trying not to smooth invisible wrinkles out of the cloth. Urahara was standing there waiting for her. He smiled when she moved into the room around the screen. In his arms he was holding something long and white as well as a pair of black boots.

"Good," he said, "here," he added, holding out the white jacket.

"These sleeves are--" Orihime trailed off as she pulled the jacket on, plucking the fabric that poofed out at her shoulders, "what was wrong with my old clothes?"

"You need to blend," Urahara said as she did up the buttons of the long jacket, tying the thick black sash around her waist. The jacket was high necked and went longer than the dress, but aside from the mutton sleeves it wasn't terribly ugly, "and your old cloths didn't do that."

"I know," she said as she tugged on the boots, "but this just seems a bit--" she looked at herself, "foolish?"

"Lets just say this place was never known for its fashion sense," he said, "think of it as a disguise. And what until you see what Ulquiorra's got to wear."

As if on cue, the subject of their conversation walked into the room. Orihime turned around as Ulquiorra stepped into the room. He was dressed the same long white hamaka as before, same black boots as well. But instead of the long coat with the tails, he now had on a shirt that was shorter, tucked into the thick black fabric around his waist. Thrown around his shoulders was a long white cloak, one that would hide his face when he pulled up the hood. Anyone who looked at him would not immediately know who he was or what he was. Just over his shoulder, almost lost in the folds of the fabric of his cloak, was the staff she'd seen. He looked both disgusted and wildly uncomfortable, though Orihime couldn't really see why. He looked kind of dashing, like a hero about to set out on an adventure.

"Good," Urahara said, "if you keep your hood up you should be able to blend in enough to fool a passing glance," he looked at Orihime, "so should you. Try to keep your heads down though."

"We will," Orihime said, easily finding her bracelet in the pocket of her jacket, "are you sure its okay that we leave now?"

"No time like the present," Urahara said with an easy smile.

"Okay," Orihime said as they made their way out onto another balcony.

"Now," Urahara said reaching up into the darkness and turning something with a click-hiss, "follow this tunnel up," he said yanking down a ladder, "it'll take you up to Hueco Mundo once again," he looked between them, "and try not to get into too much trouble," Urahara said, "and remember, if you're going down you're going the wrong way."

"Right!" Orihime said with a smile, "thank you, for everything."

Urahara smiled at her.

"You have changed," Urahara said, "you're growing up," he smiled faintly, "it suites you."

Orihime blushed and looked at her toes, mumbling something incoherent. Urahara didn't seem to mind as he smiled at her.

Urahara looked at Ulquiorra. The ex Espada looked at him cautiously, as if he wasn't quite sure what to expect. Goodbyes that did not involve blood, death or general hatred was neither of their strong suites. Urahara looked at him carefully, considering his words before he opened his mouth and spoke.

"Well," he said, "you're off to a better start than most people get."

"it is not my first time," Ulquiorra replied cooly.

"Lucky you," Urahara said with a laugh.

Ulquiorra inclined his head in agreement as the two of them made their way to the ladder.

"Goodbye Urahara," Orihime said.

Urahara watched them depart, disappearing into the dark tunnel that would lead them back to Hueco Mundo. Taking a deep breath of the air, he reached up and closed the hatch, sealing it off and breaking the handle for good measure. There would be no more need for it, no more need for anyone to come down here. Not anymore, not after them. Not for him anyway. Slowly Urahara turned and walked back into the small house that he had called his own. It had only been a few years up there and time, time moved differently down here. Faster. And yet it seemed like it had been an eternity since he had last stood down in the place. Slowly he crossed the space of the house to where there was a creekey floorboard. Bending down, he pried it up and reached into the dark space. It took a moment of fumbling to find what he was looking for but his hand found the handle of the blade finally. He pulled it out, knowing that she would never speak to him again. Not after he stashed her under a house for so long.

But he did not need her to talk, only to obey.

Leaving the floorboard exposed, he walked over to where the first of the candles were burning. Drawing the blade, he methodically ran the silver metal over his palm. It slid through his skin easily, sharply, as though the sword needed to prove that, unlike him, it had not lost its edge. Blood welled in his hand as he turned his palm and clenched his fingers, letting the blood drip into the candle. He walked the length of the small house, adding his blood to each and every candle. He was heedless of the drops that scattered the wood of the floors. As he moved he imagined he could hear them coming, hear them running towards him as fast as their legs and power could take them. Oh it would take them a bit to find him, even if they thought they knew where he was. But he didn't mind waiting, not a little bit longer. He'd been doing it for a very long time after all. Waiting for this moment, waiting for another end. But in all the scenarios he'd come up with, all the ways he'd thought it would go down, he'd never thought he'd feel as peaceful as he did.

He had created life.

And that was worth dying for.

When they appeared in a rapid swish of robes, he was not surprised. Nor when they drew their swords. He did not turn around to face them, not right away. There wasn't much point in that after all. They knew who he was, just as he knew them, as much as a person could know another anyway. Which, when one stopped to think about the possible secrets another held, was not very well at all. But Urahara knew that people had known him, more than he would have liked probably and that was something too. As he stood there with his death right behind him, he realized that when all was said and done, despite all that he had done with his life, there was good in it. Good that he probably did not deserve but it was there none the less.

"You traitor!" the first shouted, "tell us where they are!"

"Gentlemen," he turned around to face them, a smile playing on his lips, "I don't know who you're talking about."

"You lying piece of scum! We're talking about the human girl and her Arrancar boyfriend! We know they were here and--stop laughing damn it!"

Urahara could not help it. He did not know how long it had been since he laughed as he did, standing there facing death with his blood scattered throughout the apartment. But he did laugh. He laughed at the memories of his father, his brother, his wife. He laughed at the experiments that he had thought failed, that had not failed at all. And as he laughed he realized that, in the end, his greatest experiment was his own life. The one thing he had never thought to analyze. All the things he had done, all the steps that had taken him to where he stood, all of it was, in a word, magnificent. And as he stood there and laughed and felt tears threaten his vision, Urahara realized that when he looked back at his life he felt proud of what he had done. All the wrongs, all the failures, all of them were just as magnificent as the successes. Perhaps then, they were not failures at all. Just successes of a different and slightly stranger nature. When he looked at the men, his eyes were clouded with tears but he felt no sadness.

"There was no Arrancar or human girl here," he said, smiling with the honesty of the statement.

Before his visitors could spew more anger, Urahara gave one final laugh and, with a wave of his sword, set off his final experiment.

No more visitors would come to the endless forrest below Hueco Mundo, not for some time. But when they did they would not be greeted by endless blackness.

They would be greeted by the bright ruby sun that was Kisuke Urahara's last gift to the underworld.

* * *

It was dark in the tunnel shaft they were climbing up.

Orihime kept her gaze forward, not that it really mattered considering the fact that the tunnel they were climbing up was completely pitch black. Somewhere above her Ulquiorra was climbing up as well, because pitch black or no, the fact of the matter was that Orihime was in a dress and she would not let him go underneath her. There was a time when it would be light and if she came up the tunnel first, she was not about to let him see what she was wearing underneath it. Neither of them spoke as they climbed. Orihime knew it could not have been terribly long but it seemed that they had been climbing for a very long while. Especially when the adrenaline that had been coursing through her began to wane and she began to feel all the little bumps and bruises and things that made her want to stop. Her arms began to ache, as did her legs but she forced herself onwards.

Above her she heard the methodical sound of Ulquiorra's hands and shoes on the rungs of the ladder. The sound was just as methodical and cool as the man himself. Orihime imagined that if the hard, white still made up his skin there would be more of a sound. But as it was his boots were the loudest sound on the rungs of the ladder. Still there was something oddly comforting about the sound, as if as long as she knew that he was there everything would be alright. Her hand paused on the rung as she looked up in the darkness. She could not see him through the endless darkness but she could hear him continue to climb. Continue to make his way through the darkness, even if it meant that there was more distance between them. Orihime's hand tightened on the rung, praying that she was not going to be taken by the crippling memories. What if her hand slipped--what if--

"We are almost at the top," Ulquiorra's voice broke through her tumble of thoughts, "do not stop, your muscles are tired as it is."

"Right, of course!" Orihime said, her voice jarringly loud and happy in the darkness.

They continued to climb in silence for a bit more before Ulquiorra stopped them.

"Wait," he said. Orihime looked up, listening as he moved his hand against something, "climb down three rungs," he told her. Orihime immediately obeyed. She heard him move, his staff coming from its casing. There was a loud rap followed by a much louder one. On pure instinct, Orihime lowered her head as the door was thrown open and light streamed through, "we are at the end," he stated.

Orihime looked up at him. He was holding the ladder, looking down at her with his cool emerald eyes. Orihime opened her mouth to agree with him when the world shifted without warning. Suddenly she was not on a ladder, her hands were free but she was heading upwards all the same. Her eyes were wide and Ulquiorra was standing with his back towards her. But it was Ulquiorra as he had been when she had thrown herself at him, sobbing. The black wings, the gold irises. Only this time she could feel fear coursing through her. She was terrified, of him, of what was happening, of everything. In the midst of it she wondered what could possibly have happened to bring her from the blinding fear she felt to the desperate relief when she had thrown her arms around him sobbing. What could have made her change her mind so quickly? If she could she would have asked herself or the half seen figure next to her.

Or the man being held up by his tail.

Horror coursed through her. The man was beaten, broken even. Blood seemed to cover every inch of his tanned skin. He was dressed in the same black robes as the people who had tried to kidnap her had been in, but his were little more than tatters, darkened by his blood. If she had not been so terrified she would have gagged or vomited outright at just how badly the young man was injured. But even as the blood matted his violent orange hair and got into his angry amber eyes, the defiance she saw in them outshone it all. He was looking at Ulquiorra like he would kill him, even though the fight was clearly lost. There was no doubt in her mind either that he would keep fighting, that death or the devil or anything in any world would not stop him from fighting. Even the tail around his throat did not make the fire in his eyes go out. And when he looked at her, blinking blood out of his eyes to do so, there was no worry or shame or fear in his gaze. Just defiance and confidence. She could hear his voice, somewhere in the back of her head, saying that everything would be okay. That he'd get her out of this. And she believed him, on a level that was almost instinctual she believed him. As if everything in the past she could not remember had taught her to trust him. That he'd save her, save the world, save everyone.

And then she saw Ulquiorra's expression.

If she had not become accustom to the nuances in his face, she'd still know the look on his features. He was not emotionless, not cold, not hiding anything. He was excited, delighted even. He was enjoying this. As if the young man's death was the culmination of something, something great. Like a child with a prize, like a predator with his prey, he was enjoying torturing and killing the man. The orange haired man had no claws, no fangs, no wings no tail--nothing and yet he had still fought. And Ulquiorra was still delighted in killing him. It was the most naked she had seen his emotions in the stilted memories that came to her. the most naked she had seen his emotion and it was when he was about to murder a man. She could feel the terror and nausea that coursed through her in the memory but she knew that it wouldn't be gone when she got out of the dream the feeling wasn't going to be gone.

Sure enough when the world came back to the present, she was holding the ladder for dear life, her eyes still locked with Ulquiorra's. She stared helplessly up at him, knowing if she opened her mouth it would either be to scream or vomit. As if sensing her distress, he immediately turned and climbed the rest of the way up the ladder. Though her palms were slick with sweat, Orihime scrambled the last few rungs that separated her from the endless desert and starry sky.

Orihime staggered onto the sand, stumbling as far away from the man as she could. She was going to be sick, she just knew it. She heard him move forward, concern in the movement. Concern! From someone who seemed so delighted in killing a man in cold blood. Did he only show concern to people who he had to take care of? to her? Why was _she_ the exception? She'd assumed he knew how to fight, and other people seemed to be afraid of what he could do--of what he had done--and she knew she'd have a problem with him killing someone. But there was a difference between killing, between winning a fight, and doing what she had just seen him do in her memory. There hadn't been anything fair about it, he hadn't had a scratch on him while the young man had been covered in his own blood. But Ulquiorra had not killed him outright or continued to toy with him, he had been pausing. He had been waiting. He had wanted witnesses to what he did, glory to the gore. Oriime felt her stomach roll as she heard Ulquiorra approach her.

"Are you--"

"No!" Orihime ripped her arm free at the barest touch of his skin on the fabric of her cloths, "you--you were going to _kill_ him! Just like that!" she blinked the angry tears back furiously, "and you--" she swallowed back the bile she could taste in the back of her throat, "oh my God, you were, you were going to enjoy it!"

"You do not understand--" Ulquiorra began.

"I don't want to understand!" Orihime cried taking a step back, "I saw how you looked at him! I _saw_ that look in your eyes--" she pressed a hand to her mouth, "you were _enjoying_ yourself. You wanted him dead--no, no you wanted him to be defeated, to know that you were strong and he was weak and--" she stopped, feeling even sicker, "did you kill him?" he said nothing, "did you kill him?!" she repeated, her voice rising.

"It is not that simple--"

"Did you or did you not kill him?!" she demanded.

"I did," he said.

"Oh my God," Orihime staggered back.

She saw Ulquiorra open his mouth but she turned around, unable to look at him. He killed someone, someone who wasn't able to defend themselves against him. And he had delighted in it, reveled in it--he'd enjoyed it. Enjoyed it so much that he was willing to wait until he had witnesses to finish the deed. She did not know what was worse, the fact that he had murdered someone in cold blood or the fact that he had wanted witnesses for the glory of the kill. He wanted not only the man he'd killed but her and the person next to her to know that he was strong and the dead man was weak. Weaker than him. Not just that the orange haired man was weak but that he was strong, stronger than him. As if by proving just how stronger than the other man he was he'd settle something. Something that Orihime didn't understand, something she wasn't sure she wanted to understand.

Her foot collided with something hard, something not soft and certainly not sand. Blinking back the tears that clouded her eyes, Orihime looked down. There was sand there, sure, but there was something else as well. The sand was less here, covering something rather than just being sand. Orihime looked at the white slab, scuffing her foot to expose more of it. It was the hard, white stone that had been on the palace. Orihime's eyes widened as she turned around and looked at where Ulquiorra was standing. His eyes went to her feet and then back to her, one hand immediately going for the staff. The ground beneath her trembled violently and she instinctively moved forward. Orihime gasped as the walls began to spring from the ground. She tried to make it to where Ulquiorra was but it was impossible.

She gasped and jumped back as three slabs of white shot up in rapid succession. Running forward, she moved to where Ulquiorra was but the walls had already closed him off. She barely managed to get back as one sprung up where her legs had been a moment earlier. Stumbling backwards, she twisted around as the motion of the slabs became much much smoother, almost snake like. Orihime looked up as they slithered upwards, sliding above her and closing her off from the starry sky that she had been looking at a moment earlier. Orihime gasped again as they formed a long, tall tower that reached for the heavens, the panels that had closed it off. Orihime stared upwards, realizing that in the narrow and tall space it was more like she was in, well, a shaft. An elevator shaft. Immediately her eyes went downwards as the floor trembled, sand shifting on it.

"Oh no--" the rest of the sentence was lost to a scream as the floor shot upwards, catapulting her towards the top of the shaft. Immediately she was knocked to her knees, her hands pressing into the ground as the floor kept rising.

Above her the shaft kept building, stacking on itself as the floor shot towards the sky. The adrenaline was so much that she didn't realize things were gradually slowing. Still when the platform reached the top of the shaft, it was fast enough that she bounced upwards, landing on her backside on the sand. Instead of breaking anything, she bounced--though she was quite sure that neither sand nor stone were materials that made one bounce--but instead of falling to her death, her feet landed on one of the panels that had made up the shaft that took her to where she was standing. Unprepared for that, Orihime gasped, her arms swinging wildly as she landed on her knees. The panel was not terribly wide nor was it terribly long, but she realized that if she kept herself on a strait line, more or less, she'd be able to walk forward without much of an issue. As long as panels kept flying forward.

Slowly Orihime pushed herself to her feet, brushing off her dress as she swallowed thickly. Inhaling, she forced herself not to look down or to the sides or, most importantly, to look at the endless starry sky that stretched all around her. She kept her eyes on her feet and the panel of white that made up her entire world. Raising a foot, she cautiously took a step forward, expecting the panel to slide or tilt thanks to her weight. But it held fast, supported by something she did not understand. Moving forward, it took two steps to get to the edge of the slab. Orihime closed her eyes, not daring to look at the ground that stretched so endlessly below her. What was she supposed to do now? Just step out into the endless abyss and hope that some kind of invisible mechanism caught her? How stupid did whatever force controlling this think she was? Orihime opened her eyes and turned back, walking across the slab to the elevator shaft, intent on riding the slab back down.

The shaft was empty.

Orihime looked down, realizing belatedly that when she had bounced off the thing, it had flipped and caught her as well. Somehow, she thought, it would not work the same way going back. Letting out a breath of air, she turned around and walked back to the other side of the slab. Shaking herself, she closed her eyes tightly and reached out with her toes, like she was testing water to see if it was too hot or too cold. All she felt was the seemingly endless air between her and the sand. Easing her weight forward, she held out her arms, figuring if she was going to fall at least there would be some chance that she would be able to catch the platform she was on. Balancing on one foot, with the other poised in front of her and her arms extended, Orihime imagined she looked quite stupid. Of course the alternative was waiting on the platform and just sitting there seemed worse. Taking a last deep breath, Orihime moved her weight forward.

The platform she had been standing on fell away as another took its place. Orihime opened her eyes in surprise to see the slab she had been standing on rotate back to the structure as a new one came forward and took its place. The old slab took over the new one's place, maintaining the integrity of the structure. Licking her lips nervously, Orihime walked forward along the length of this platform. Taking one step, she turned and looked doubtfully back at the structure. Would a new slab come forward or was she too far away? Moving forward to the edge of the platform she extended her foot but kept her weight on the one she still had firmly on the platform. Turning her head, she looked back at the white shaft of the elevator. None of the slabs were moving. If she were to repeat the action, would one of them get there in time? Shaking herself, Orihime held a hand behind her to better be able to catch the platform if the slab did not make it in time.

She lowered her foot, putting her weight forward.

The platform caught her foot just in time. This time her heel dangled off the edge of the platform. Swinging her arms forward, she threw her other foot forward and caught herself. By the time she turned around, the slab had already flown back to the shaft, taking the place of the other. Orihime looked at the platform's foreboding edge. She was going to have to step very widely if she was going to make it fully onto the platform. But that meant she wasn't going to be able to maintain any kind of balance on the platform she'd been standing on. But she was going to have to risk it. Standing on one platform of stone, suspended in the middle of the sky, that was not an option at all. Steeling herself, she walked quickly forward, extending her leg fully towards the open sky. Before she could talk any kind of sense into herself, she threw her weight forward, keeping her eyes locked ahead. Her feet connected solidly with the platform that was beneath her. But even though she had stepped forward widely, she'd barely made it past the edge of the slab.

"This is crazy!" Orihime said.

"That's kind of the point, huh?"

Orihime gasped and turned towards the sound of the voice, only to find the sky empty. The sky--her balance wavered at the sight of the black that stretched endlessly around her. She moved her arms but that did not help one bit. She didn't fight when her legs buckled and she sat down hard on the slab, her head spinning. That voice, the voice that didn't have a body, it was so familiar. Her eyes widened as she sat up, twisting around but finding the empty air around her to be just that: empty. Orihime inhaled sharply as she realized that the voice was just that--a voice. Like the voice that had been in her head in the strange dream she had had. The dream that had not been a dream but a memory. Well the rest of the things in that dream had been real, why shouldn't the voice have been as well? She just had not expected it to come to her like this, in spite of the taunting it had give her in her dream. Orihime folded her hands in her lap and turned towards where the voice had been.

"This isn't very nice, you know," she said, "invading people's dreams, putting them in the middle of the sky on white stone slabs--its actually really mean."

"I was in your dreams?" came the inquiry, "I'm flattered."

"Well would you at least let me see you?" she asked.

"Of course," came the voice, this time from the other end of the platform, "just follow my voice."

Orihime could practically hear the grin on his face. Doubtfully she turned and looked at the white shaft behind her. Would the next platform make it there in time? Somehow she had a feeling the owner of the voice took too much delight in taunting her to let her fall to her doom. Especially when she had a very strong inclination that the owner of the voice was the one controlling the shifting slabs. Slowly she pushed herself to her feet and needlessly dusted off the white skirt of her dress. Steeling herself, Orihime pushed herself forward, jumping onto the next platform. She landed towards the edge but fully on it none the less.

"Not bad," came the voice from the edge, "might want to jump a bit longer for this one, try a running start."

"Why don't you just tell me who you are?" she questioned, "because I have a--" she stopped, "someone is waiting for me."

"Lots of people are waiting," he said, "but its not about you. its about what you can do. Or could, could's probably a better word."

"What do you mean?" she demanded, "are you talking about that gold light? Because I don't know what that was!"

There was no reply this time. Orihime took a small step backwards. The voice said running start. Listening to disembodied voices, traveling with murderers, she really was going crazy. Trying not to think too hard about what she was about to do, Orihime ran as fast as she could towards the edge of the platform, leaping as far as she could. She squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to look down if this was the time the platform didn't make it and she fell down to the sand that was so far below her. For a moment she felt weightless, she felt free, but underneath that she felt terror. Because the weightless, free feeling meant that the platform was not under her. There was no slab, no nothing, nothing but the endless sky below her. How long would it take for her to fall, to land and collapse into a heap? Would Ulquiorra enjoy that or did he only enjoy deaths that he had caused? As the thoughts tumbled through her head, Orihime realized that gravity was taking hold of her.

And then it happened.

She felt the release once more, the strange click as everything inside her suddenly lined up. There were no words, no effort, nothing but pure instinct and suddenly instead of falling, she had landed on something. Something that glowed. Orihime opened her eyes, looking down and regretting it immediately. She was on something golden and glowing and, worse of all, translucent. Though the light was solid, it seemed more like glass. Orihime looked at her hands, half expecting cracks to spider web and for the glass to shatter. But it held strong, impossibly strong. And somehow she knew that the glass would hold or block anything in the world. It was strong, no, more than that, it was impenetrable. As if everything on the other side of it would be rejected by it. Like it wouldn't exist.

A lazy clapping echoed in her ears. Almost afraid of what she'd see, Orihime raised her eyes. Instead of the nothing she was used to seeing, there was a man standing there. He was skinny, so skinny Orihime would've been surprised if a breeze wouldn't make him yet for his frightening skinniness she was sure that he was strong. Strong and dangerous. Silver hair almost brushed his shoulders, though he didn't look like he could be any older than Urahara. His face was odd as well, his eyes slitted and a grin bright on his face. He looked both delighted and amused at what she was doing, like a child getting a favorite toy. Something in her told her to be afraid of the man standing there but that voice was not as loud as it usually was. The man in front of her, he had lost something. She did not know how she knew it, only that she did. That the grin and the slitted eyes were just as much of a mask as Ulquiorra's emotionless one. Pushing herself back onto her knees, Orihime kept her gaze on his.

"Impressive," he said, stopping clapping and coming to stand in front of her, getting down on one knee, "do ya know who i am?"

"Gin," she said, the name falling effortlessly from her lips, "your name is Gin Ichimaru--" Orihime looked down, surprised at how easily the name came to her lips.

Her eyes widened. Between her hands, far below on the sand, she could make out a group of figures. But they looked like they were in a fight. Her heart lurched as she realized that there was only one person they could be fighting with. But Urahara had said that his powers weren't fully adjusted. And if the others knew that he was like he was--he was in trouble. Orihime's head flew up as she looked for Gin. He was still standing there, not a disembodied voice. At least, not completely. Half of him was translucent, a third of that was already completely clear. He was disappearing. She opened her mouth to demand he help her, tell her how to get down to help Ulquiorra. He might have been a murderer and he might have deserved to be punished but to have all those people gang up on him was something she couldn't just let happen. With a bright grin, Gin held up a finger towards the sky before turning his hand so his finger was pointing downwards.

"Down?" Orihime said, "yes I want to go dow--" her sentence was cut off with a scream.

As if the gold light read her thoughts, suddenly she was flying downwards. Shrieking, she tried to find something to hold onto and found it impossible. Thinking slower did nothing, as if the gold light had sensed her urgency to go down and help Ulquiorra it rocketed her towards her destination. Frantically Orihime turned around pressing her hands to the gold light as she looked at the rapidly approaching battlefield. She was about to be dropped in the middle of a hopeless battle.

And there was nothing she could do.

* * *

**Oh snap! Is Urahara really dead? How'd Orihime know Gin's name? Whose attacking Ulquiorra? Can he save himself and Orihime? Oh and what's Orihime gonna do about this whole you-killed-ichigo-thing. Will she let Ulqui explain himself? Find out soon! (oh and no promises since this might change, but the current working of the next chapter has genuine Ulquihime in it. Passionate, genuine ulquihime)**

**So please review! You guys have just been kicking ass in the review department and I love you for it. so please keep it up! There's a reason this fic sees so much attention and its because of you all! I told you, you review and I update and lets face, it thats knd of a win win all around.**

**So please review!**


	16. Too Shy To Scream

**Okay now we get to the fighting. **

**As for Ulquiorra and his new weapon, I was kind of going back and forth between what I wanted it to be. I was leaning towards making it a short staff and the pic that Rusky Boz drew really cemented that for me. And also I think given how we've seen Ulquiorra fight, a short staff works very well for what he can do. **

**Also I apologize for the delay in posting this. I got really uninspired by some unpleasantness that happened in this fandom. And then I started seeing a lot of stuff with Ulquiorra being a whiney little emo-bitch which made me even MORE uninspired. Because he might've found his heart, but lets get real. He's probably not going to know what to do with it and I highly doubt he's going to off and sulk in a corner wailing about being trash and pain. **

**So yeah, this chapter is all about Ulqui being his badass self. **

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* * *

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Her eyes widened as she watched Ulquiorra.

His face was hidden by the hood of the cloak, his features lost to the shadows of the cloak. But Orihime wondered how they could possibly not know that it was him. His movements were incredibly fluid as he easily took out opponents with the staff he wielded. Orihime remembered him holding a sword when she had first met him but if he had skill with the blade it was nothing compared to what she saw now. She had never seen someone move as quickly as he did, his staff working seamlessly in conjunction with the kicks and punches that he threw. The white fabric that he wore hid his face and the lines of his body, making him seem somehow more than just a man. He was as much a part of the desert as the people he fought, assailants who seemed to flow from the sand as if they too were a part of the desert.

Orihime twisted around to look at them. They were all united by one thing and that was the fact they wore fur. Each and every one of them donned something that was obviously edged with fur and a bright purple pink flame design. Orihime realized that it was a uniform, the same as the people who followed the woman in the red armor had worn. They were good fighters, very good actually but they were no match for Ulquiorra and suddenly she was glad that she could not see his face. But she knew that even if she could she would see nothing on it. He was cold in his movements, each strike and block carefully placed with deadly precision. Anger made you sloppy, it gave your opponents opening they would not have had otherwise. As she watched him she could see clearly that whatever he felt was pushed aside, his focus completely on the battle

So what had made the other fight different?

Why had he shown so much emotion in _that_ fight while in everything else he seemed perfectly composed?

Before she could wonder, someone grabbed her from behind.

Orihime grabbed their bone hard wrist and twisted, breaking their grasp as she turned to face her assailant. It was one of the men with the bone, like the rest of them. He had a mouth but didn't seem to feel the need to speak as he grinned at her. Only the grin he gave was not teasing or was it amused. It was a predatory grin, the man was delighted in the fact that he was going to get to fight her. Orihime scanned his chest, looking for any kind of weakness but the amount of bone white that covered his skin was astounding. She could see anger in his eyes though. He was angry and excited--full of emotion. She could use that. When he lunged, she sidestepped him and brought her foot up and back, slamming it into his spine. He stumbled forward and she turned around, catching him with the top of her foot this time as she threw him further off balance. He turned and lunged for her as Orihime brought her foot around, preparing to finish him off.

Her foot connected with nothing but air as he vanished.

There was a dull echo and suddenly he was behind her faster than she could fathom, his hands locking around her and throwing her easily to the ground. The breath was knocked from her lungs and suddenly he was on top of her, his bone white hands locking around her throat.

Dimly in the back of her head she heard Ulquiorra's weapon falter as her own mind frayed with the feeling of being strangled. The face of the man above her was lost to the bones that covered his face but Orihime was sure he was smiling. He was enjoying choking the life out of her, as if he had spent a very long time wishing to do nothing but. Orihime tried to get out of his grasp but his hands were too strong, his arms had locked and she knew, she _knew_ that she was going to die. That this was the end for her and for the emerald eyed man who was still fighting somewhere behind her even though he could not breath. The hands that she had on the man's arms slackened, her fingers moving of their own accord. The gold shield she had would be no use here, not now, not with the man standing above her choking the life out of her. She was going to--

She was going to--

Something inside Orihime rebelled, disgusted at the idea of dying on the sand being choked by a man who shouldn't even have existed. She had not even realized that she closed her eyes until they snapped open and she looked into his face. He seemed surprised at the fact that she was still alive and the iron grip he had on her throat slacked just slightly. Instinct and training took over at the smallest of opening's he gave her. She slammed her hands on the insides of his arms, using a sharp strike to drive his hands apart but they were instantly back around her throat, the pressure even more. Orihime tried to get him off but it was impossible. He was ready for her attack this time. Struggling for air, Orihime locked eyes with the man that was trying to kill him. On pure instinct she swung her hand up to the smooth, bone covered side of his head. Her fingers connected and for a moment nothing happened. Then. eyes that locked with hers widened as the hands that clenched around her throat tightened further. His lips parted as the grip on her throat slackened.

Then his eyes and mouth began to glow.

Orihime was too stunned to gasp as gold light began to shine from his mouth and eyes, glowing steadily brighter until it was enough to burn her eyes and make them water. Though they stung, she kept her gaze locked on him, too horrified to look away. And then gold light began to lace through him, like a thousand knives were cutting him from the inside out. They too started as a glow but soon they were lacing in and out of his skin, cutting him apart. The golden blades were unstoppable, easily slicing through the impenetrable bone and the softer skin. Nothing was safe. As it expanded outwards she saw the sword strapped to his side get caught in the blades and destroyed just as easily. It felt like forever and yet the arm extended upwards, pressed the man's head, didn't even have time to get tired. Within a moment she was laying on the ground, one hand extended upwards into the air, her fingertips touching nothing but the air.

It had been easier to do---whatever it was that she had just done.

Easier than the shield, easier than any other time she had used the gold light. All the missing pieces, all the jagged edges, everything felt as if it was perfectly aligned within her. She didn't even ferel horrified at what she had done--at the fact that she had just murdered a man in cold blood. He had been trying to kill her and she had--she had destroyed him. At the thought, her chest began to work again, rising and falling as she gulped in air like a woman who had just been choked. For a moment she felt like she could not move, like she never would move again. All she could do was lay there and gasp for air, struggling to control the frantic pound of her heart. But they were still in the middle of a fight. Focusing on that and nothing else, she rolled over and pushed herself to her feet, her eyes sweeping the figures that had attacked them.

No-one moved.

Everyone seemed stunned at what she had just done, Ulquiorra included. Orihime looked down at the ground. There was no darker sand where he would have bled. No chips of bone or metal or fabric that would have flown free. There nothing to say that the man that had strangled her had existed at all. It was impossible. There had to be _something_ there. Something to say that the man had once been there. Her head flew up as she looked at the figures who still stood there, too stunned to move after what she had done. Their horrified expressions were the only evidence that the man who had attacked her existed at all. Orihime wasn't sure what she had done or even if she could possibly do it again. But from the look on their faces, they didn't know that. Summoning whatever anger she could, she glared at them and raised her hands as if she was going to destroy them as well.

They vanished with the same echo as the man who attacked her, leaving her and Ulquiorra as the only two people for she could see.

Neither of them moved.

The memory of what Ulquiorra had done, of him delighting in killing that orange haired boy was fresh and painful in her head. She had pushed it aside to fight but now as she looked at him it came roaring back. Orihime hated the jerky flashed of memory, how the world seemed to disappear when she had them. How one moment she would be standing in one place and the next she would be somewhere completely different. And yet as she looked into Ulquiorra's emerald eyes she found herself wishing desperately that she would have one of them. That she would see him doing something--anything--that would make her feel better about what she had seen. But nothing came to her. The world did not shift or disappear, she did not see Ulquiorra as something else, he remained standing there with the black staff in his hand and the white cloak on his form.

Orihime turned away from him, her eyes going to the ground. Her throat tightened uncomfortably. She was so confused. Ulquiorra had been the only person she had trusted the entire time that she had been in the strange place. He had taken her to Urahara and he had stayed. When she almost died, when he almost died, when the woman in the red armor almost killed them both--he'd still stayed. And yet when she looked at him all she could see was the delight he had taken in torturing a boy who looked suspiciously like someone she knew. But even if she did not know him he had been enjoying torturing him and that was the part Orihime could not stand. every flashback, every memory she had of him his expression had been cold, unfeeling and even if he was feeling something he didn't let it show. But when he was torturing, when he was killing, that he enjoyed. And that was something Orihime could not understand. Even after what she had just done, she didn't feel overjoyed at it. She felt disgusted by it. By the fact that she had not only killed a man, she had erased him from existence.

But even as she looked around she realized that the endless desert surrounding them held no answers for her and slowly her eyes were drawn back to the man standing across from her. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run though she was sure if she had to she could. The pale sand stretched endlessly around them. There was nowhere else for her to go. Nowhere that she could leave to get away from him. He would follow her though whether it was out of duty or anger or something else, Orihime wasn't sure. But he could move as quickly as the others and she knew that he would catch her. She looked around, hoping that the landscape had changed but it remained the same. If she left now, without any idea of where to go, then she knew she could be stuck roaming the desert she found herself in for a very long time.

"We need to keep moving," he told her, his voice cool, "others will come to investigate."

"You can't be serious!" Orihime sputtered, "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

Ulquiorra looked over at her, his green eyes locking on her face but Orihime held her ground. He might have been the nicest person that she had encountered since she had come to this place but he had still killed someone and delighted in doing so. How could he possibly think that she would agree to go anywhere with him? The desert surrounding them might have been endless and she might have felt fear curl through her at the prospect of spending so much time in it alone but the idea of following him around after what she had seen, that was unfathomable to her. How could she possibly follow--possibly help--someone like that? Someone who had shown her the first real emotion she had seen on his face when he was strangling the life out of a boy her age. Ulquiorra looked confused at her sudden refusal to go anywhere with him but Orihime was unyielding.

"You cannot stay here," he said.

"Why not?" she demanded, "I was fine here before I found you, I'll be fine now!"

"No," he said looking at her, "you will not. Not now that the others know you are here," he took a step towards her and she matched it with one of her own.

Ulquiorra examined her carefully. She did not look afraid of him, not like she had right after the vision of him killing Ichigo. And she did not look upset as she had in the past. Now she looked angry. Her violet grey eyes danced with the emotion, as her fingers furled and unfurled next to her. She looked angry and Ulquiorra had the distinct feeling that she would have no trouble acting on the emotion. Somewhere deep inside him he felt his own anger come to life. She was acting as though she had every right to be furious and, in a way, he thought that she did. But the truth was that he did as well. He had every right to be angry, in some ways he imagine he had more of a right to be angry than she did.

What happened during his fight with ichigo had only been partially his fault.

What happened afterwards had been completely hers.

The change must have shown on his face because her eyes abruptly narrowed, her stance shifting slightly as she looked at him. He recognized the look in her eyes, she was seeing what he would do next, trying to anticipate his movements. He still held his staff in one hand, the weight of the weapon perfect in his hand. Around him was evidence of his skill with a weapon that had been so alien to him. Looking at her he realized that he had never thought he would have to draw his weapon against her. But seeing her fingers flexing, he realized that he already had drawn it against the woman he had once been sworn to protect. He knew her power up until this point had been called with adrenaline and instinct, she had no control. But somehow he thought that would not matter, not in this fight.

"I am not going anywhere with you," she repeated, "and I can defend myself."

"That is not a risk I am willing to take," he said.

"Its not up to you."

"Yes, it is," he told her, his voice ice to the fire in hers.

"What are you going to do?" she demanded, "kidnap me again?"

His eyes narrowed at the jab and before he had known what happened, he had risen to her bait.

"If that is what it takes," he said, "you forget, we are bound together. If I die you will as well and as someone who has died several times, I can attest to its unpleasantness."

Orihime glared at him, hating that he was probably right. Dying did not sound like fun. But traveling the desert with him, that sounded even worse. She refused to let the worry show on her face as she raised her chin defiantly and glared angrily at him.

"I don't care," she said, "you've died and you've come back," she crossed her arms, "and I've dealt with 'unpleasantness' before," he opened his mouth but she barreled right on, "and I would rather deal with a whole shitload of unpleasantness than travel one more _step_ with you!"

He did not reply to her angry words. He moved seamlessly forward, fast enough for her to see but not fast enough for her to react before he was in front of her, the edge of the staff at her throat. Orihime's eyes widened at the press of wood to her throat as she stood very still. Ulquiorra did not move, he stood perfectly still with the staff pressed to her throat. Orihime held his gaze with her own. Neither of them moved as they stood there, Ulquiorra's staff pressed to her throat. Though she might not have remembered everything, Orihime had the distinct feeling that he had not physically threatened her, not in the same way that he was doing now. A part of her said he wouldn't move, that he didn't have it in him to actually hurt her. The rest of her felt the smooth surface of the staff against her throat and wondered if he killed her, would he take the same delight in it that he had when he murdered that boy?

The whole of her decided not to find out.

She didn't go for the strange power that only seemed to come when she was in desperate need, if it came to that she imagined she could. But for this she went for the thing she knew, the training she had worked hard at. She knocked his staff aside with a sharp quick motion before she stepped forward, drawing back her hand and slamming her fist into his eye. Instantly his staff blocked her next attack, twisting it around so that her next attack failed to hit him. She disengaged his attack and struck out once more. He did not attack her, but he matched her attacks. Not all of them, but enough so that Orihime felt frustration pound through her. She was good, she knew she was good. But so was he. His facial expression was cool, giving away nothing as he blocked her attacks. So the next time the staff came around to block her fist. Orihime struck out with something else.

His staff connected with gold light.

Orihime's eyes widened as her power seamlessly blocked his, rejecting the attack. His gaze locked with hers over the glow of her power. Orihime kicked This time it did not take much to use her power, far less than it had in the past. Neither took the time to marvel at the sight of the her power. Both immediately disengage before Orihime lashed out with her foot, meaning to kick him only to have him seamlessly block the attack. While he was occupied with blocking her, Orihime turned and and took off, intent on running as fast as she could to put as much distance between herself and Ulquiorra as she could.

The hand that locked around her wrist was human and soft but the grip was unyielding. Suddenly Orihime found herself spun around, her back pressed against Ulquiorra's chest as he crossed her arms and locked them against her chest. Orihime struggled but his grip was like iron. She had noticed that he was taller and bigger than her, not by much but by enough that suddenly she found herself at serious disadvantage. Every move she made to try and get free was countered and rebuffed. The most she got was to lay her hand against a sliver of his wrist. Twisting her head, she glared at him over her shoulder.

"I'll destroy you," she threatened, her eyes blazing with anger, "I swear, I'll destroy you. You'll be nothing more than a pile of sand, you monster!"

"You will not," he said.

"I will!" she shouted, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on her power, on the gold light that had let her destroy the man she had killed moments earlier.

"You will not," he said, his voice hard, "your power will not let you destroy me."

"Why not?!" she demanded, "why is that every time I take a step forward you yank me back? Why can't I do anything without first thinking about you?! Its my power! I should control it!" she struggled against him, "I should be able to destroy you!"

"You will not destroy me," he said, his voice cool and suddenly tinged with bitterness, "because if you do, you will be destroyed as well."

Her eyes opened as she twisted her neck to look at him. His green eyes locked with hers but his iron grip on her did not relax. He knew, he knew that she would take advantage of any opening he gave her. As his words sunk in Orihime's eyes widened at what he had said. If he was destroyed she would be as well. She had known that, she had felt it before when he had been in serious trouble. He had stopped breathing, she had stopped breathing. She knew he had been destroyed and she knew that he had been brought back--that she had had a hand in bringing him back. But as she looked at him now she realized that it was not as simple as that. Her power would not destroy him, that much was clear, but he had known it before she did. And the only way that he could have known it would have been for him to have experienced it before.

"I didn't bring you back," she said, his voice thick, "did I?"

His grip on her loosened before his hands fell away completely. He moved away quickly, as if the thought of touching her was once again painful. But it did not matter. All earlier thoughts of running away from him were gone from her head. She felt weak, like all her energy had gone with him and a part of her wondered if that had not been the case. His back was to her. Instead of taking the opportunity to run, Orihime moved closer to him, her hand moving outwards. His hand caught her wrist, preventing her from touching him.

"But I remember being happy that you were back!" she said, "I remember throwing myself at you. I was crying, I was apologizing--why would i be doing that if I didn't bring you back?"

"Because you were gone as well," he told her.

"I was what?! Are you telling me I was dead?!"

"Not dead," he said, "your power it--" he seemed to struggle with choosing the right words, "it was unbalanced. You were controlled by it. You did not decide to bring me back. It was not a choice, or something you wanted, you brought me back because we are connected. If I die you will loose yourself in your power and you will change _everything_."

"No, _no_," she shook her head, "I couldn't--"

"You can," he said, looking away from her, "and you already have," he said, his eyes meeting hers once more, "and until we get the orb back, we have no hope of severing our connection and returning to how we were before."

"Before what?" she questioned.

"Before I kidnapped you and brought you to this place," he said, "the Hogyoku, the orb, it is the thing that was used to connect our powers. It is the thing that can break our bond."

Orihime considered his words before she spoke next.

"And when we get this--Hogyoku? right?--when we get it back, will I stop having these memories?"

"I do not know," Ulquiorra said, "and it does not matter--"

"It matters to me!" Orihime cried.

"Not right now it does not," Ulquiorra told her cooly, "right now the only thing that matters is getting the Hyogoku. Without that your memories will continue to come to you. You have a long time to remember and each has affected your ability to function."

"My ability to--my ability to function?" Orihime demanded, "I am functioning just fine for someone being force to travel with a person who they keep remembering in the way I keep remembering you! It always comes back to you--"

"Which is why we need to find the Hogyoku, so I may return to my true form and you can go back to your real life."

"Wouldn't we find it faster if we split up?"

"No," Ulquiorra said.

"No?" Orihime repeated.

"No," he said, his voice taking on an edge, "you do not know your way around this place. And as I said if you get in trouble than we will both be destroyed," Orihime opened his mouth, "and I am, unfortunately, weakened which poses a problem as well."

"A problem? We have people trying to kill us and you're calling it a problem?"

He looked at her, his expression still cool but also puzzled.

"What else am I supposed to call it?"

* * *

**I wanted to end it on a slightly lighter note. **

**Next time we have more of the **Hogyoku**, the Ulquihime--all of that.**

**My apologies about the delay again. This is for all the people out there who understand this is FICTION and they can write about whatever the hell they want! Don't let the stupid emo-trolls get you down!**

**Now I know some of you are thinking you're not going to review because I made you wait so long. If you choose to do that then you're gonna be waiting longer. See I'm kindasorta susceptible to praise (blame the muse) and general reviewing/fanarting. And right now a certain other fandom is just pwning in awesomeness. So you guys want new chapters for this you're gonna have to review!**

**So Please review!**


	17. Girl's Not Grey

**Sorry about the delay! Life's been a little *uh* crazy recently! And it hasn't helped that I've been kindasorta obsessed with HTTYD recently. **

**But look! I've got a nice new chapter here for you all!**

**See Rusky? I can update! **

**Enjoy!**

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He was going to kill her.

He wasn't sure how or what the ramifications for them both would be but Ulquiorra had decided that he was going to kill the woman walking behind him. The anger that coursed through him was enough to make it hard to see, to steal his breath away. And worst of all it was almost impossible to control. Not that that was really anything new for the woman behind him. She had always been able to make him feel, the difference was that now there was nowhere he could retreat to regain control of himself. He was forced to feel, to become dangerously close to reacting, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing save for clenching his fist in his cloak and thinking of all the ways that he was going to make the bright, angry light in her violet grey eyes go out.

And he was going to _enjoy_ it.

Everything since she had come had gone from bad to worse. Every emotion he felt, she took and twisted and made impossible to hide. Every time his heart lurched or his breath caught, he could trace it right back to the sunset haired woman. Everything from the outlandish to the simple, all of it had an effect on him. Ulquiorra had long ago decided that what infuriated him was not so much the fact that she was able to affect him in the ways she did-no, no what infuriated him to the point of blindness was that _he_ was so utterly unable to control himself when it came to her. Even with his best attempts at serene or cold or unflappable, he knew his carefully constructed facade was broken. His eyes would widen or his lips would part or he would do _something_ that made it clear that he was not only being affected by her but that it was showing.

"This is quite strange, don't you think?"

"I gotta agree with you there buddy."

Ulquiorra froze, one hand going to the grip of the staff out of instinct, the other shooting out to block Orihime out of-something else. She stopped short, colliding with his hand. He could feel the layers of fabric in the coat and her dress and underneath he could feel the warmth of her skin. Soft hiding firm. But from her sharp inhale and shift of weight, he knew that she saw what lay ahead. Or rather, what stood ahead, blocking their way. Ulquiorra looked up and around, stuffing down the urge to swear when he realized they were surrounded by the crystal trees, none high enough to block the moon's light but all too thick to let them slip past undetected. There was one path through-one path that was currently blocked. But what caught his gaze were the two figures leaning against the trees.

Fighting the urge to cringe away from Ulquiorra's grip, Orihime stared at the two men who stood there. Both were tall but given the strange people that she had seen, they were oddly in proportion, especially to one another. The one leaning to her right was tall and dark skinned. From what she could see the right half of his face was perfectly formed into a handsome face though his eyes were hidden by sunglasses. He was dressed in all green, looking like he would fit far more into a hipster club than on a desert. The man on the opposite side of the path was equally tall but far more feminine, his blond hair falling almost to mid back and secured with a black velvet ribbon tied with a bow. His white shirt was frilly but for all the black he wore there was not a spec of sand on him.

"Who are you two?" Orihime asked, looking between the two of them.

"She doesn't remember us," the dark skinned one said, shaking his head as though disappointed.

"There's a lot I don't remember," Orihime said, defensiveness creeping into her tone as she moved past Ulquiorra, stepping to face the man, "who are you?"

"Who am I?" the blond man asked, "who are you?"

Orihime looked between the two of them, thoroughly confused.

"She's forgotten," the dark man said, "does that count?"

"If a tree falls in the forest and no-one hears it, does it make a sound?"

"I guess. I mean, just because you can't hear something doesn't mean it didn't make a sound."

"But if-"

"Would you two _please_ stop speaking nonsense!" Orihime cried desperately looking between the two of them, "we need to pass."

"She needs to pass," the blond one said, slowly turning to his counterpart,"but she doesn't want to hear our 'nonsense'."

"Huh, then I don't think she should pass," the other agreed, facing him.

In spite of all that had happened, Orihime still felt herself take a step back as she stared at the men. While the right half of one and the left half of the other's faces were perfectly normal, the same could not be said of the other side. It looked as if someone had taken a porcelain teapot and smashed it into their faces. On the destroyed side of their faces, neither had an eye nor much of a nose. What was left of their mouths were twisted up into macabre grins that sent chills down Orihime's spine. What she had thought were simply accents were actually far more wicked. The skin as well was ghostly white and speckled with chips of what she could only assume had once been masks. For a brief moment, Orihime wished that she had stayed behind Ulquiorra's protective hand. But the moment passed and she forced herself to stare at the two.

"I said we need to pass," she repeated, trying to inject firmness into her tone rather than the fear she felt.

"And we need answers," the bond one declared to her with a wave of his hand as the dark skinned man nodded emphatically.

Orihime looked between the two of them. Put together they would make a whole person, all their jagged edges lining up. But sometimes, sometimes people came with jagged edges that did not line up. Sometimes two people were two people and the best that you could hope for was that no-one would smash a porcelain mask into your face-or if they did, that the other person wouldn't just leave. Orihime did not need to look over her shoulder to know that Ulquiorra was still standing there. Still there after her repeated demands for him to leave. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and looked between the two of them.

"What's your question?" she asked.

"We asked the question already," the blond one said as the darker one nodded emphatically.

"If a tree falls in the forest-"

"and no-one is around did it make a sound?" they finished in unison.

"Well yes," Orihime said, "it will make a sound even if no-one is around to hear it."

"Yes but how can you be certain?" the blond one asked.

"Nothing is ever really certain," Orihime said before leaning forward, "did you know there is a world below this one-_and_ one right next door?"

The two jumped back, gasping as if she had just said something so scandalous they could hardly believe it. Orihime bit the inside of her cheek, trying desperately not to smile as she waited for them to calm down. Both looked at each other before running to the middle, whispering and gesturing as they tried to figure out if she was lying or something. Orihime pressed her hands to the outside of her dress, looking between the two of them as she waited for them to reach a consensus. They whispered heatedly back and forth for a moment before turning to face her completely, their good eyes locking on her as the frozen sides of their faces twisted gruesomely as if struggling to express emotion. Their mouths opened to speak to her but the words never got past their throat.

"So sorry," a voice said, the tone bored, "but I find this rather boring, don't you?"

All four pairs of eyes-broken included-turned towards the voice only to find the body that accompanied it was not exactly there. It did not matter, Orihime knew that voice too well. She knew what would happen as Gin Ichimaru stepped seamlessly out of invisibility and into a solid form. It happened so slowly that she could see every move he made, as his body came into being. He was wearing white cloths but instead of being purely white, they were contrasted by a long strip of turquoise cloth that wound its way around his waist. The two men tensed but they did not look away from the man, as if they had learned that looking away from him could only mean terrible things. Orihime had a feeling though that even if you wanted very carefully, Gin Ichimaru was more than capable of disappearing and reappearing somewhere completely different whether you could follow him with your gaze or not.

"Gin," the blond one's voice dripped with disgust and anger and from the look on the dark skinned man's half face, he too did not like the silver haired man, "what are you doing here?"

"Oh you know," Gin said, "there's not a lot to do around this place," he waved his hand dismissively, "so I thought I'd come to see what you two idiots were up too," he looked between them with a grin, "don't get up on my account."

Suddenly the two were seated next to each other, one at the base of each tree. Gin stood in the middle and judging from his wide grin and the two men's utter inability to move, he was perfectly in control of the situation. The grinning man walked forward, obviously taking his time to close the distance between the the two of them and himself, letting the tension build. from the looks of it the man in front of her was very good at the dramatic and perfectly aware of the effect that he had on others. If anything, she would say he enjoyed it immensely. Gin stopped when he was right in front of her, pausing for a moment to offer the maniacal grin that he had given her earlier before stepping past her and focusing his attention on Ulquiorra.

In a flash the green eyed man's hood was gone, his pale but human features laid perfectly bare for the silver haired man.

"Now that," he said with an even wider grin, "is very interesting."

The coldness was gone from Ulquiorra's gaze as he fixed Gin with a look of such utter disgust and loathing that it made the previous looks offered by the two men seem friendly. Like before it only seemed to delight Gin who took his time in inspecting Ulquiorra. At first it struck Orihime as odd that he did not physically react to Gin's presence or inspection, that all he did was stand there and glare but that he made no move to physically harm the silver haired man. He just stood there, as if froze into a statue.

It was not until she tried to move herself that she realized it was impossible.

Panic flared in her as she realized she physically could not move. And if that was the case she knew that Ulquiorra could not either. She could not even move her eyes. When Gin stepped behind Ulquiorra, it seemed that the emerald eyed man was looking at air. One of Gin's bony hands reached forward and drew Ulquiorra's staff from its place in the folds of his cloak. With a lazy pass of his wrist, he spun the staff in a perfect circle, slow at first but soon the staff was dancing in his fingers. As he spun it the dark ebony slowly began to glow, gold at first but soon the light was bright with an emerald darker than Ulquiorra's eyes. For the life of her Orihime could not say how she knew it was rude for Gin to be handling Ulquiorra's weapon, only that she was very aware that it was.

"Very interesting," Gin repeated before lowering the staff, "wouldn't you agree?" he asked, turning to address someone completely different.

It was only by virtue of her position and where she had locked her eyes that Orihime was able to see the creature behind Ulquiorra. As she stared she knew that if she hadn't seen Ulquiorra in that form before she truly would have found a way to scream at the sight of him. But this creature was different, even moreso than Ulquiorra had been. And yet there was no mistaking the green in his eyes, even if that emerald was his sclera and his irises were a bright gold. There was also the fact that the creature was translucent and for a moment she thought that there was another being like Gin. But as she looked at him, she realized that he was making no move to become fully visible. As if standing there in translucence was the best he could do.

Her eyes refocused on Ulquiorra. Sweat stuck out on his brow and even with his inability to move she could see the lines of tension on his face and neck, as if he was straining against some invisible force. She could not say how she knew he and the creature behind him were connected, but seeing the physical pull the creature had on him, she knew that it was taxing for Ulquiorra when the creature behind him was even translucent. His eyes were locked on the spot where Gin was, he couldn't even look at her. All either of them could do was stand there.

"Interesting?" the creature repeated before giving a snort, "yeah, I wish. Trying being here a couple days ago. That was interesting. Now its just-" he made a sound of misery and shrugged his shoulders, the massive black wings on his back moving with the gesture, "boring."

"Days you say?"

"Yeah, days," the creature frowned and crossed his arms, "but I guess how it'd be interesting for you. I'm guessing shit don't go down too often 'round here huh?"

"You are a very talkative one," Gin said, leaning to look at the winged man who seemed more than content to repay the favor, "I'm surprised he tolerates letting you out."

"Tolerates? Ha! That sorry excuse for an Emo couldn't find his way out of Las Noches if he was the one controlling the corridors! I mean, lets think about this, the man had to blow a _hole_ through the _ceiling_ to find an exit," he slung a translucent arm around Gin's shoulders, "not exactly the brains of the pair, if ya know what I mean."

Gin's grin, if possible, widened.

Suddenly the creature was behind her and though she saw his clawed hands go for her shoulders, she could feel nothing in the way of actual physical contact.

"And can we _look_ at this chick here? I know she's hot, you know she's hot-hell _he_ knows she's hot and he still won't make a move! I know I know, right now she wants to kill more than kiss him but still, don't that seem a little silly to you?"

The grin on Gin's face softened slightly and for the first time Orihime thought that she caught a glimmer of honest emotion in his features. He looked-not sad. But wistful, as if he was remembering something pleasant that was no longer there. But just as quickly as it had come the emotion vanished and his grin was back on. The invisible creature behind her moved back to where Gin was standing, his smile also in place. Belatedly Orihime realized that neither was truly smiling, it was simply that they were giving their versions of a poker face. She could tell nothing from their smiles-and that in some ways was far more nerve racking than her inability to move.

"Try to stick together," Gin said looking between the two of them before releasing them with a wave of his hand, "your connected in more than one way."

Orihime gasped raggedly as her legs buckled, taking her down to the sands. The moment her hands connected with the white grains, she shoved herself back up and staggered forward. Gin vanished before reappearing behind the two motionless men. With a snap of his fingers they were both gone, caste to places unknown. Orihime's entire body felt shaky, as if she had held herself in one position for too long and yet she forced herself forward.

"Wait!" she cried as Gin stopped in the archway of the crystal trees. He paused, turning slowly to face her, "who-who _are_ you? Why do I remember your name?"

"Who can say why the mind does anything?" he asked with a grin, "I'd say you're late," he continued with the same enigmatic smile, "but you already know that," instantly he was in front of her, so close that she could smell the odd scent of persimmons on his breath, "so I will simply say 'don't dawdle'."

And then he was gone.

Orihime stepped forward, half hoping that if she was fast enough he would still be there but it was too late. The pathway was clear and she was fairly certain that just like everyone else she had encountered in the strange world he would not tell her anything. He'd speak in riddles-something that would only be made even more unsettling by the grin he would undoubtably wear throughout the whole thing. There was nothing out there but sand and riddles and some impossible quest that would give her answers-answers she was not even sure she wanted to have anymore. Things had been so much simpler when it had just been her. When she had thought that it had just been a car accident that had done this to her, not something so much more devious.

She was too surprised and miserable to be shocked when the scene shifted.

Unlike the previous times when she had been taken by memories, this time she was very clearly in a place where there was light. Sun light. It streamed through the thin window set into the wall opposite the one she leaned against. She was wearing the tattered white cloths that she had been wearing before. They were stained a thousand different ways, caked with dirt and sand and tears and sweat and blood. She knew every scratch and bruise her body bore, but none seemed to matter. Her bright sunset hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back. It seemed impossibly long, longer than she would have even thought possible, the weight of it alone was monumental.

She was leaning against the wall, her body and her head resting against the dark stone. Tears had dried on her cheeks and even though she was sure somewhere deep inside that she had cried more in the past few days than she had any right to, she still continued to cry. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks as she stared at the far wall. She felt numb but underneath the numbness she felt confused and scared. Alice down the rabbit hole. Nothing made sense. Nothing at all. And she could not figure out why.

She did not turn at the groan of the door opening. Did not look at the person who walked in, muttering a gruff thanks to the man who'd escorted him in. The other man muttered something before moving out of the way, closing the door behind him with another groan. The man shuffled forward, clearly in the cell and still she did not turn. She leaned against the wall, looking at the shadows on the opposite one, ignoring her visitor and the sun. The man was undeterred as he walked over to her, kneeling down. She could see the edge of the white clothing he wore, though while hers was little more than tatters, his was pristine. To the point where it looked almost ceremonial.

"Inoue," he said her name softly, "they voted. There's nothing I can do."

She offered no reply for what he said.

"Did you know that would happen-" he trailed off, obviously frustrated, "I'm sorry Inoue," he said, his voice firmer, "this is what has to happen."

She waited until he had crossed the room before she spoke.

"Do you think I'm dangerous?" she asked, her voice shaky and hoarse.

"The council-"

"Not the council, Ishida, you," she said, twisting until she could see him, "what do _you_ think."

In the dim lights she could see the man more clearly. The white he wore was ceremonial. He looked perfect, like he was representing an entire race. Coal black hair, so dark it glinted blue in the splashes of sun was cut shorter in the back and longer in the front. When he turned his head, he could see the clear spectacles that he wore, half hiding his stormy dark eyes. The look in them was unreadable, but he could barely look at her for more than a second before his gaze went to the floor and he turned his face away from her.

"I don't know what to think of you, Inoue," he told her coldly before walking forward and rapping on the door, slipping out the moment that they opened it.

For the first time the scene did not shift immediately. It stayed, leaving her alone in the cell with her numbness and hopelessness. She was a prisoner. The man, Ishida, she did not remember but she knew that he had been important to her. Important enough that she had remembered his name instantly, easily. Certainly far more easily than she had remembered other people's names in the foggy memories that took her over. She knew that she had cared about him and he about her. That there was a reason he had been so angry with her and what she had done. But like so many crucial other things, it was just out of reach. She had no idea why the man looked at her like he had, nor why it made the tears that were falling silently down her cheeks fall much faster. She only knew that it hurt to have him look at her like he had. As though he did not know if she was the girl he knew or someone who was so dangerous that they needed to have their fates decided by councils.

All she knew was that it made her feel terribly confused.

But not nearly as confused as she felt when she blinked and the world shifted and she discovered that she was no longer in the desert at all.

* * *

**Uhoh, where is she? Is Ulqui with her? **

**So we had some new characters introduced (obvious ones at that) but if you want to know whose who please make it clear in your review! **

**Also I'm not keeping track of who knows who is who, so if you just want the new characters specify that. If not I'll just send you the so far complete character list. **

**Okay guys, please please please review! **


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